Savory SacrificeBrown feathers fall, whippingcracks escape surrounding treesas heavy pants free from aching lungs.Fear across face, blinding, dripping off beak.Destination freedom, so feetscuttle, scurrying from soundsof slow following footsteps.Closer, closer, never breaking pace.Frantic flapping falls short, wings laylifeless at sides. Feet no longer move,yet nearby creeping continues. Single steptaken before feathered body shocked still.He stares into the eyes of another,whose soulless slits clobbers heartagainst his tender chest. Wings raised highnearby sky close, containing endless blue,but hot stones shoot, paralyzingmuscles. Heart explodes, red poursand stains autumn scented leaves. The scurryingstops, heartbeat no more and rustling forest falls silent.
Miles BetweenSun rises again, miles between us remain unchangedlike rushing rivers and extended state lines, closer than hand.How many days must pass until I see his face again and graspno longer cold, empty from dangling fingers. Leftto clutch, nails boring deep into palms, aching to brushagainst his chest as a new sun rises, miles between us remaindistant as memories of smoldering eyes. A slicedand split photograph cannot compare so I will waitfor the day until I can see his face again and kissthose sweet parted lips, tempting, burning red.They danced against my tongue, leaving behind taste of sugarinto the morning and rising sun where miles have changedas our bodies curled underneath cotton sheets,twisted and turned, conforming to our tenderentwine. How many days must pass until I wake upto beaming bright lights through glass, sunwarming cheeks. Eyes flutter open, gazing at curledhair, angelic expression and misty eyes. Sun rose, milesbetween us faded, and the day I can his fac
Once MoreSoft satin caresses, sweet lips touch,sending heat down my spine. Fingersintertwine, brushing mouth, cheeks,hair, leaving nothing behind. Desirecontrols, your lust craving more,hiding the picture. Moving lipsshow mind’s hunger, representingwavering ways. Sick of twisted motives,such childish play, now say her nameonce more, rekindling blazing flames.Red drops of passion puddle upon floor,draining white fingertips damp, speakonce more. Deepen fresh woundswith twisted smiles. Say her nameonce more, I dare to hear such sounds.If not, hold your tongue, your eternalpeace, and never move those lips from mine.
Black VinesNear vibrant flowers, emerald vinescurl and crawl across covered meadows.They embrace, black vines dancingupon skin. Glorious body art.Dark ink curls, blossoming firstflowers, flourishing sweet summer.Yet tips bare brown fruit, witheredwrinkled skin as amber sheds life.Ink fades grey, dancing patterns ceaseas vines drop last fruit into fresh snow.
Resolutions"Camila, open your door, now."The pounding shook my door against its frame and knocked the pencil out of my hands. I tried to pick it up off my desk but moved too fast,knocking papers and pencils to the floor. I reached for my supplies when another shout hit my ears."Camila, I'm not going to repeat myself."I grumbled under my breath, saying words I knew I couldn't repeat in a few seconds. I rushed off my seat and over to my closed door. Thepounding never died, leaving my ears throbbing. I covered my ear with one hand and opened my bedroom door with the other to see my mom glowering.She stood over me, eyes boring into my own. Her lips mashed into a scowl. "You have been ignoring me for the last ten minutes. What are you doing here?"I swallowed a large lump down my throat. "I-I-I was just-"A gasp flew past her lips, interrupting me. She shoved past me and entered my room, eyes wide. I knew we were both staring at the samething: dozens of sticky notes against my walls.She
UmbrellaRain poured from the grey clouds, drenching the brown soil. I watched the weather from the inside of my apartment, watching every drop as it hit the ground.However, that wasn't the only thing that captured my eyes. Standing at the bus stop was a young man, looking in his twenties. He stood tall against the storm, holding a mere umbrella.How it help up for this long was beyond me. The wind blew it inside out, leaving the man soaked. He had no reason to hold onto it anymore, yet his fingers wouldn't let go of the handle. He stood as a statue, waiting for the bus.The rain kept falling.
OpenDark dingy dungeon, alivewith desire. Chains diginto wrists, seepingevery last drop.Eyes missing day light,longing warm love againsttender cheek.Key resting on wooden tabletop. Long ago did it call,now silence.
RebirthFlower withers, dies.Stem falls, soil swallows seed.Life begins again.
Life of a WriterIronic, isn't it,creating worlds with only pen tip,lives spun from fragile mind?Being a writeris the burden nobody grasps.Breathing life into human beings,faith in palm's hands.They face challenges,live lives,follow dreams.Mock, call us simple,but try, carry this burden,world's weight upon shoulders.Until that day,do notmock the life of a writer.
NightmaresI watch your blood sprayand twist with rolling wheelsas hell holds my dreams.