2 months coffee free, sober to
your antics, my eyes
open, the light is here.
no longer am I blind to your
cloak of disapproval.
bold and transparent, you are revealed.
I got out before you could
pen me in.
before my heart could break again
before I fell deeper than
the waves could carry me.
I won’t lie, there’s no need for it.
you still fill me up,
your scent, steeping in my skin–
the more I smell you,
the harder it is
This month’s Visual Verse prompt is an interesting one. I thought it a great opportunity to do a bit of flash fiction for this image. It’s an intriguing image and the subject appears at peace–serene. The first thing that came to my mind is a cleansing, how something is purged or can be purged from our system, our hearts, and our minds. Below, you will find a snippet of my contribution for this month and then, a link to the piece in its entirety.
As always, thank you for reading.
Milk & Honey
The cool blend of milk and honey wrapped itself around her. This would be a cleansing, a release of the heartache that plagued her for weeks. She never thought she would have to say goodbye to a love that lasted longer than her dream of love. Three years… Three sacred years that she will never get back, gone — forever.
As she stood still, every pore of her body welcomed the cleanse and pulsed with sensation. She thought of his touch, his breath, his hands pressed onto her spine. He was all over her: in her bedroom and her walls. He had taken over everything she knew.
Many thanks to Visual Verse and to all of you for stopping by. The rest of the entry is here: Milk & Honey.
My crush doesn’t know there’s a word on my tongue for him.He sees past me, looks at my smile as a red plum, ready to steal its juices — sip the glow. He whips past cafes and brunch spots, knuckling a worn laptop, it’s where he stores his words.
I am the menacing sun, effervescent and demanding. I stand in his path, a weeping dialogue begins.I know he knows, but he doesn’t want to know and I don’t want to say anything that will lead to more questions of who we are.
Label purgatory.
If there’s such a thing — that’s where we’ve landed. The back and forth of indecisiveness eats us alive.
He is the blue moon on a dark Spring night, the silent harp. I, heart in hand, legs shaking and teary eyes welling up, break the ice; “You know, we cannot pretend forever.”
Thinking he would understand and soon… Soon… We would morph into a blessed abundance.
But he chuckles, wipes the scuff marks off his brand new Chucks and whispers, “but I am not pretending.”
This heart
Aches when words
Of venom shoot through it.
Silence saunters in,
It makes half of me
Twist into a complex labyrinth.
You think, “but she’s usually
An angel. Mostly kind and polite.” I am also human.
Daggers draw blood
And words
When used to cut
Into soft flesh
Can kill.
Instead of dying,
I fight back.
Armed with an arsenal
Of my own,
Each moment in regaining
My strength will cause
Me to empty a chamber. I assure you…
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