Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Laura Mankowski Jan 2015
Atop the Ferris wheel I noticed; my fearlessness was fading.
Laura Mankowski Nov 2014
They say the darkest hour is just before dawn
And it is
I know because
On the day you were born
I started my journey toward you
And couldn't tell where the black tar of the road ended and the black tar of the sky began
On the day you were born
As the purple hue of the dawn began
The whole world started to wake Unaware of the miracle occurring
And as the purple haze grew into the Bright, orange, burning morning
And the sun finally crested over the trees
What leaves remained on them in this crisp, cool, end of fall
Looked to be alive,
Burning with the energy that was being created
And as I drove down that straight highway toward you
On the day you were born
I've never seen a more beautiful day
More beautiful trees
A more beautiful highway
On the day you were born
Laura Mankowski Nov 2014
When they say
"Tell me about them".
You freeze
Laura Mankowski Oct 2014
Words on a page
In a particular fashion
    Hold weight
                   Where as what I say
Spills out and
                    F     L    O   A    T   S
Without the benefit of style
To weigh it
Laura Mankowski Oct 2014
"How are you?"
The crispness of your voice, cracking the surface of the perfect silence
It snaps me out of my own thoughts
Eyes focused, smile on; "Fine" I manage
"Good" you ramble and continue on to yourself; I assume since you skipped the pause -
The pause where you debate if I'm telling the truth
I retreat back into my thoughts
Eyes transfixed on that spot in the distance
The one I'll draw to me if I
I'm not sure how long I've been gone, but judging by the renewed silence, I've missed my cue
To back up your outrage
Or congradulate your assertiveness
Blah blah blah
"Are you listening?"
The tone a little more inquisitive, eyes a little more searching
Eyes focused, smile on, "Sure" I try
You sigh and wait
I'm happy to let the silence have it's turn to talk
You clear your throat
I sit
"Fine", you lunge- trying to pierce my armor
I parry, not baited
Who has time to be sad?
Why talk about feelings?
What I want, who I miss, how to cope
I smile weakly
"I'm fine"
Change the subject
Laura Mankowski Oct 2014
**** isn't what happens with less clothes on.
Intimacy is.
Laura Mankowski Oct 2014
At what point,
Did my hands
Turn into my mother's?
Next page