this mood
these times
that once
those signs
and the -
lack
the complete
And utter
lack
of the sound
of breaking glass
none of its
shrill announcements
splintered
shattered
nothing...
i feel
a soft pride
glow in my chest
as i recognise
acknowledge
confess:
one
these base instincts
for what they want
not what they are
and two:
being strong enough
not to sway
in a familiar breeze
About the Creator
Bren
“I know what I mean it to be and respect that someone else may read something entirely different.”
Centre Stage with the wonderful Heather Hubler
Becca
"Everything is so... flat." Denille said stupidly as she looked around her new neighborhood. She looked around at the muted desert where even the smallest sign of life seemed to have given up. The plant life was shrubs that were half cooked by the heat and where there should have been a lawn, a mess of white rocks laid glistening in the sun. Even the sky looked stretched thin, like the sun had ironed it smooth. She’d moved from Riverside, where at least there were hills, but here in Barstow, everything felt baked and brittle.
By Sara Wilson8 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
As always, your cadence has me hooked!