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Tori May 2013
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.
Tori Jul 2012
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
Her
Tori Jul 2012
Her
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.

— The End —