%%USERNAME%%    %%ACCWORDS%% %%ONOFF%% |
 |   GI100 Book #2...random attempts at poetry. |
8-3-17 There are bug-like blood stains on everything. Someone's been here before making some regrets. Mistakes were clear. I catch a warm wind and inhale the sand of another's bones and I catch myself. No one should've known, I can hope. My periphery sees things I don't as I spin my head to acknowledge; a sun that's not a neighbor and an ally unable of trust. You're unspeakable but I can hear you. Your trail was ending at my feet. A breath and a curse. A cloudless rain. Unseen at the destination, I don't have the option of a smarter retreat. I must face this. I have to draw a margin and stay within as the details begin to emerge. There's a responsibility and I should understand its outline but the murkiness is blinding. It's all I have left. And I know you were around. Even the most desolate places bear the autumn of your presence. Do better, it says. Give yourself a chance to take another breath. Do better, it says. Give yourself a chance to see whatever's left and make an existence outside this silhouette. Do better, it says. |
View Portfolio
Visit Notebook
Send Gift Points
Awards
Badges
Send Email
Community Newsfeed
General Discussion
Sponsored Items
Book of Trinkets
Static Items
Books
Groups
Interactive Stories
Audio
Campfire Creatives
Community Notes
Crossword Puzzles
Documents
Folders
Images
In & Outs
Madlibs
Photo Albums
Polls
Product Reviews
Quizzes
Survey Forms
Web Pages
Word Searches
