Watching him write on the blackboard
More green than black
I was struck by the deep blue of his shirt
And how crisp the lines were
Folded and ironed
More effort than I care to put into a shirt
And even though I was shivering
In the dark, hopeless blue of
My bulky winter jacket
Sitting in that empty chair
I slid out of the room in my mind
Recalling summer
The windows, now with canvas
Blinds half lowered
Would, instead of frost and condensation
Allow thick, all-encompassing heat
To slither into the room
Our shirts sticking to us
Sweat stains would mark up our
Clothes, like chalk on the blackboard
And our legs would
Stick to our plastic chairs as we
Stood at the end of class, reinvigorated
Voices raised in shared triumph of the overcome
Backpacks would be thrown over our
Shoulders wet and tan and flush with
Heat of the summer season, synonymous with
Hope. Our shorts and bright shirts made the
Room a deafening testament to our
Readiness
For the day.
May 21, 2013
May 21, 2013 at 12:02 AM UTC
The dim morning light
Shone on her body
He admired her perfection
Her legs were thrown carelessly
Above the covers
They seemed to never end
Her hair spread about
Forming a halo of silk
Around her head
Her body leaned toward him
And seemed to sigh
In time with his bliss
Her fingers, long and thin
Were as beautiful as hands could be
And they were his
Her eyes, closed to the world
Were just as beautiful
As the soul they contained
Her arms reached to him
With her bare wrists showing
And on one was tattooed "remember"
He would never forget.
Jul 2, 2012
Jul 2, 2012 at 12:09 AM UTC
Eyes like a desert storm
Patient
Listening
Waiting
Whispers of hidden truths
Intrigued?
Look closer
Eyes not like windows
But like doors
To the soul
In a moment of
Weakness
Uncertainty
Catch a glimpse
The door is ajar
Soul is
Angular
Jagged
Please don't reach out
You'll cut yourself
Jul 2, 2012
Jul 2, 2012 at 12:08 AM UTC