Poetry

one word. plague

one word: plague. photo courtesy of steffen tuck, flickr

drawn to the moonlight

bitten by a mosquito i thought nothing of it other than to scratch it and curse. and then everything changed. spotted and green it was a new look to an old feeling. grasping at another groan, i began replacing the pretty pink lipstick i kept on just for distraction. a subtle reminder… keeping away the foreign kiss of the others.

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monday poetry train, short story

transfer

it is an exciting day for monday poetry train revisited it is the 100 edition. congrats to gautami tripathy at firmly rooted ; photo: Cuba Gallery: Black and White / farm / vintage / texture, flickr

leaving a little note tucked in the sleeve of a forgotten memorable book she hugged the house and walked away.  it was after all more than enough. there were no more than a few hours left after an aeon in stasis.  searching the blue sky her eyes took in every detail acutely aware each footstep brought the disappearance closer. touching everything her fingers soon grew numb.

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