My bones feel rigid like I’m living with rigor mortis, depression’s equivalent of arthritis. There’s nothing the doctor can prescribe; sunshine cannot be packaged and nor can your smile so I guess I’ll just wait in my heaviness. This opaque silence where nothing can relieve the nothingness I feel whenever you leave. © … Continue reading Rigid
I held my hair like a rosary and pleaded with my nightmares to be kind to me; to burn a candle of maybe whilst showing me every way a loved one could die; to keep vigil over hope whilst teaching me the way bones shatter after falling; to cradle me in cotton memories whilst reminding … Continue reading A Candle of Maybe
I remember the evening which was a Sunday like the Sun remembers the East, Not because it was magical I thank God it was tangible Nothing of dreams or the faraway tree. I remember it like Dorothy does her slippers ruby and gold sparkling in moonlight a teenage dream taking flight, Or like a … Continue reading Sunday Evening (Weekly Prompt #10)
When you are twenty three I hope you feel like you hold the sky diamond and endless in your hands, even if it's really running down your knees. I hope you don't mind dirty shins spattered with the yellow of your fears green of your dreams and violet frustration. When you are twenty three … Continue reading Twenty Three (Weekly Prompt #3)
The cat cries and a baby whines I'm sat sullen still seething with crashed daydreams you held, tore with such vigour. In a couple of hours you'll be sorry silent treatment no more held hands half-heartedly an apology I want you to swallow to lodge in your throat as you still … Continue reading An itch to scratch (Weekly Prompt #2)
Salty tears streaming down cheeks the edge of a blade in starlight blinking blue eyes. Morning dew and cobwebs doused in rain like glue in nursery gold and blue; sunshine on water Dorothy's shoes. Gold. WP #1 - all that glitters. Link your response to this prompt in the comments Image credit.
