I took my chopped
and plucked wings,
coloured black,
off the shelf
I do so hope super glue holds them
as I can't,
and they're
Dusty

Bright pale eyes and
long fair hair

She was a born
adventurer with a
rebellious flare

Insomniac,
she came by the lake
every night

Shining like a
torchlight
against the moonless sky

She wondered how life
was like on the
other side

And curious by heart,
she decided to find out

Stepping into the cold
black water, the air
was dead still

In the eerie silence,
she boldly
started to swim

With graceful
strokes, she approached the
opposite shore

But halfway the freezing lake,
her body could suddenly
move no more

Wide-eyed and
panicking, her cries for help
echoed in the open

Sinking, flailing
limbs and screaming 'til her
lungs grew swollen

Drowned,
she never reached the other
end of the lake

But in the nearby
village, an identical girl
still lives today

Bright pale eyes and
long fair hair

Nightgown dripping wet

This little bit of time that is my life
Through hope and desperation
We only have so much
So long
And the colors can't shine bright
Forever
The sun won't always rise
My colors only fade
And maybe dreams are really all that is
I dream I live
And that I get it right

Change the red with blue
There is no truth
Besides the love me make
The love

We give

This little bit of time that is my life

I found my mom’s wedding dress
in the attic the other day.
It was carelessly sprawled across dusty boxes of junk,
hiding in the corner of the room
as if it didn’t want to be noticed.

I remember it used to be beautiful.
It was once dove white
with intricate beading lavishly sewn into the bodice.
It had a full, glossy train that flowed behind her with each step she took.
It was glamorous
and expensive.
I remember she looked like an angel that day.

But it is no longer beautiful.
It lies unprotected in my attic,
vulnerable to the dust and rodents
that keep it company.
It’s color has faded to a **** yellow.
The beading is mostly scattered on the floor.
The train is frayed and torn
and I counted a few holes where the moths must
have gotten to it.
The dress is no longer glamorous.
My mom is no angel.

I found my mom’s wedding dress
in the attic the other day.
It was abandoned.
Like the rest of us.