Her inspiration
Was etched deep into her skin
As crisscrossing scars
Blistering when touched, but a
Marvel when placed on canvas
Picture: Drops by Jbauer-fotographie via Pixabay
Credits
Pain on Her Canvas
Solace
Her headphones spilled music into her.
She closed her eyes and watched her thoughts shoot across the blackness of her mind, but the music stood in their path like a slab of concrete. They shattered against it, exploding into shiny bits and fading as if never there.
Credits
Picture: Shattered Glass by 412designs via Pixabay
In Slumber’s Arms
Hold me tight
Hold me between
Dreaming and awake
Fog and clarity
Hold me tight
Like a love
Lost yet found
Unwilling to lose again
Credits
Picture: Woman Sleeping by IceRedfield via PixabayWritten for: National Poetry Writing Month, Day 3
We’re in Paradise
“We’re in paradise,” they said. “Unhappiness doesn’t exist here.”
As they smiled and ruffled my hair,
I felt darkness overtake
The last bastions of light
In my soul.
“Yes,” I said. “We’re in paradise.”
Picture by: Gerald Friedrich