Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Sunlight spills
onto the hardwood,
seeping through a crack
in the hallway’s last door.

Steps echo heartbeats,
click, click; click, click,
rising to a crescendo
like coming thunder.

A half-hearted nudge
spreads the door's gap,
releasing the light
and an ominous creak.

A thick, sudden silence
swallows the sound,
and the purple-walled room
smells of cucumber melon.

A gray sweater
draped on a swivel chair,
rests lifeless
beside the unmade bed.

A dried palette
hardens on the desk,
an interrupted paintbrush
paused mid-stroke.

Shadows stretch long
against the weeping wall,
longing to wear
the half-painted canvas.

The light yields to dusk,
and the room exhales,
mourning a life,
unfinished.
Why
In this unforgiving
barren land,
I grow–
from roots that grip
the parched and arid earth.

Spared
by a relentless sun,
I am allowed to rise.

Yet this pardon
I must question.
I've asked for no such mercy,
defying heat, enduring wind
not merely surviving
but blooming.

I fear a coming catch,
a price unspoken,
a toll unseen,
against which I must guard.

A shield of distrust
surfaces,
sharp, defensive spikes
among the flowers
that dare show color here.

And I remain
resilient,
wary and wondering
why.
Jessica Wheeler Sep 2023
I do not stomp  
nor lightly tread  
just walk  
out onto thin ice  

there, you stand  
waiting  
soft cracks spread  
beneath your sturdy stool  
but I kick it away  
to leave you hanging  

my chilling indifference  
reflected in the ice  
playing  
quick to drop you  
on a yo-yo string  

wearing your coat
all year in my winter
while you belonged
under the sun  
on solid ground

I'll stay cold  
lying beside you  
you will linger
without covers
wearing thin
freezing next to me  
until you slip  
into a frozen sheet  

then I'll rise to walk  
on what you've become  

the thin ice  
cracking  
beneath my careless steps

— The End —