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Literature Text
You'll find her hiding under a moss-stained rock, singing love-song lullabies to sparrows. She'll be covered in rags, but for her natural beauty it might as well be silk. You'll learn to love her nasty streak, and weather the storm until it's passed.
She'll cry tears of anger when you tell her it's too late, and the fragile creature cradled in her arms is too far gone. You'll sigh in exasperation and cradle them both in your arms, and you'll hush her until the gasping tears have subsided. She'll laugh with you the next day when she's tending something new, but when your back is turned she'll let silent drops fall into her patient's fur.
You'll take her away for a day, and you'll burn with jealousy at the looks pouring over her. She'll laugh at your antics and never see any of them, but she'll have a niggling sense of absence when you pull her past the maître d'. You'll watch her fiddle with the cotton hem, and you'll wonder if she'll ever fit into your world.
She'll roll and tumble back into the wilderness, laughing all the while. You'll stand and stare and blush when she doesn't tell you to turn around. She'll look you right in the eye and ask you if and when you have to go.
You'll hold her gaze for a fraction of a second then utter a whispered "goodbye" as you turn to leave. She'll watch you as you go and pray to her own personal god that you turn around. You'll trip over a fallen branch and crawl back into her arms.
She'll laugh and croon at you and wrap your head in the cotton she didn't feel comfortable in. You'll hold her hand as you fall asleep and whilst you sleep you'll snore and talk about why you didn't want to leave. She'll listen to your words with a smile on her face and your fingers interlaced.
She'll cry tears of anger when you tell her it's too late, and the fragile creature cradled in her arms is too far gone. You'll sigh in exasperation and cradle them both in your arms, and you'll hush her until the gasping tears have subsided. She'll laugh with you the next day when she's tending something new, but when your back is turned she'll let silent drops fall into her patient's fur.
You'll take her away for a day, and you'll burn with jealousy at the looks pouring over her. She'll laugh at your antics and never see any of them, but she'll have a niggling sense of absence when you pull her past the maître d'. You'll watch her fiddle with the cotton hem, and you'll wonder if she'll ever fit into your world.
She'll roll and tumble back into the wilderness, laughing all the while. You'll stand and stare and blush when she doesn't tell you to turn around. She'll look you right in the eye and ask you if and when you have to go.
You'll hold her gaze for a fraction of a second then utter a whispered "goodbye" as you turn to leave. She'll watch you as you go and pray to her own personal god that you turn around. You'll trip over a fallen branch and crawl back into her arms.
She'll laugh and croon at you and wrap your head in the cotton she didn't feel comfortable in. You'll hold her hand as you fall asleep and whilst you sleep you'll snore and talk about why you didn't want to leave. She'll listen to your words with a smile on her face and your fingers interlaced.
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Literature
Wrists
Wouldn't they look better
with scars on them?
They look so innocent
so human
they don't belong
Maybe if the cuts
show my mental pain
they would pay attention
and the voices would stop
Literature
Red
The inky blackness prevented sight. A lantern could only do so much against such oppressive gloom. It was almost as if something wanted what was in the caverns to be forgotten for all time. A cell, with the key thrown away and long forgotten. The small light only elucidated the small patch of ground immediately beneath and ahead of her. Even the cavern walls were invisible. That did nothing to deter her. Even her loved ones' warnings were no match for her insatiable curiosity. She took another defiant step forward.
In the dark, her short trek felt like it took an eternity. Time gets... funny... in the dark. It could have been minutes, hour
Literature
The Choices You Lose (Part 3 of 3)
Miguel gets off the bus at your stop. So he knows at least as much as you know about him, a deadly symmetry. You could escape now and take that ride to Puebla or in any direction that gas and tires could outpace Mount Popo’s disapproval. You could, but you won’t. If he truly lives up to the reputation of a government killer, he’ll murder Dona Lupe just for spite. You could shoot him now or shout for somebody to stop him, but you won’t throw yourself into the hands of the law, not even for your landlady. And so, you follow him out into the street.
You catch up to him inside the colonial house. He fires first and
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2010.06.15
This was written with a spur of imagination, and I have no idea how or where it came from, but I somehow like it.
I support #dALinkSystem!||when reason knows not. by ~abrianna-m.
What do you think of the nature themes?
Is the imagery beautiful? Thought provoking? Something else?
Anything elso you notice or can think of. All constructive feedback is welcome.
This was written with a spur of imagination, and I have no idea how or where it came from, but I somehow like it.
I support #dALinkSystem!||when reason knows not. by ~abrianna-m.
What do you think of the nature themes?
Is the imagery beautiful? Thought provoking? Something else?
Anything elso you notice or can think of. All constructive feedback is welcome.
© 2010 - 2024 Kassi-Kamira
Comments22
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Beautiful. Personally, I've never read that particular style before, and it was very moving