Twenty little lines.
I hope you didn’t see me count them.
Lines of fire.
Of control.
Straight, short, sharp, neat.
Neat and tidy.
Squared away.
I almost followed suit.
Twenty lines you couldn’t hide.
Two blue ink stains.
I hope you didn’t see me make them.
See them spread across the paper.
Messy edges.
Deep and dark.
Like a crack across the wall.
Like a stone thrown at a mirror.
Like reflections of the moon.
Two blue ink stains on my heart.
Written 02/04/2013, regarding another Monday.
© Bonnie C. Aspinwall 2013
Jun 3, 2013
Jun 3, 2013 at 9:50 AM UTC
Twenty little lines.
I hope you didn’t see me count them.
Lines of fire.
Of control.
Straight, short, sharp, neat.
Neat and tidy.
Squared away.
I almost followed suit.
Twenty lines you couldn’t hide.
Two blue ink stains.
I hope you didn’t see me make them.
See them spread across the paper.
Messy edges.
Deep and dark.
Like a crack across the wall.
Like a stone thrown at a mirror.
Like reflections of the moon.
Two blue ink stains on my heart.
Written 02/04/2013, regarding another Monday.
© Bonnie C. Aspinwall 2013
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