Author. Reader. Mother.
There is nothing more torturous than an agitated mind.
It’s like a treasure chest of unspoken riches
Selfishly guarded, every jewel meticulously analyzed
Accumulating over a short time–
Epiphanies, suspicions, fears, schemes–
Until it overflows
And the tortured realizes too late
That it was easier to open than shut.
Written in response to Patrick Jenning’s Pic and a Word Challenge: Experience ~ Pic and a World Challenge #313
I want to be alone… with someone who wants to be alone.
Dimitri Zaik
We rented a motel room in a city far away from our respective lives. The moment we entered, we killed our phones then sequestered them in the old drawer – charging be damned – officially going off grid.
Two chocolates and a courtesy “Hope You Enjoy Your Stay” note sat in the center of the bed. We pushed them onto the floor and stowed away under the cold covers, embracing each other for warmth and, at some primal level, a need to belong.
But when our embrace didn’t scare away the loneliness that festered within us, we resorted to kissing it away.
Our respective decomposing worlds faded into a fog, leaving us alone.
Under satin sheets
Your soft snoring in my ears
Sheltered in your warmth
