Newest Deviations
stitch in timeShe plucks up a thread of pain from your soul, winds it slowly. Slowly around her finger, spooling the despair. She must make your ache her own. The fine strand stretches on. When, at last, she holds in her humble hands your loss and suffering, she begins to sew, To close your wounds with quick, even strokes. Scars, bright slashes mark you as hers… But only the slightest suffering will, in her cautious hands, seal an eternity of cuts. What of the grief she spares you? Resigned, she picks up the needle once more and pierces the cold white expanse of her own skin.stitch in time
She will be stained
by ~adriftinthesound
out for a smokeA mocha-skinned woman out for a smoke on the stoop clouds her mind with a cigarette … She still remembers how beauty kept her heart beating but they took away her lifeout for a smoke
she delights, now, in each new wrinkle another line drawn between What Is and What Was. Aging eyes drown her face in a lake of silver mirror only her voice is unchanged.
She takes another drag.
by ~adriftinthesound
the wavethe ocean calmly rises, sinks a mile or more in a few moments the force presses on, churning sand and bits of shell ripping from the earth.the wave
strength doubles, triples, a thousand thousand pinpricks
rushing upward, forward, outward anywhere but here.
and damned souls invite death taunting him with shrieks of laughter tossing in the foamy surf.
an angry wall of water stretches to the heavens blotting out the sun who forces through the thinnest spots to cast a watery shadow on the bathers, suddenly frozen chilled
by ~adriftinthesound
rumplestiltskin reborna lonely boy spins misery into poetry and his farm girl stares, because she knows the same sadnessrumplestiltskin reborn
honey-sweet words teased from his troubled mind slip through ink-spotted hands to the ground mounding, building ever higher
until.
one could almost
drown in this ecstasy of paper.
hungry eyes appraise
page after page satisfied the prince of profits draws her to him and she smiles
she was too beautiful to look at but the poet stared until his eyes ached and this was how she felt when she said she n
by ~adriftinthesound
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