Lemon Tea

I wondered how close the fire when I walked into the haze, at first. Skies are pasted with a light frosting; the promised sun diffused. Friendship is casual and honest with a slice of lemon that compensates.

Power is sought to refrain from habit; weakened and subdued. A quiet mind drifts on melody that slips into the sacred ponder.  House sparrows dance with nimble claws through lilac and lavender.

Shadows pull back as the sky burns through the low hang over.

Spring is too loose to keep a choke on. It will soon be replaced with something stern; more intolerant.

Into The Night

‘OPEN’ flickered in the wet fog that saturated everything. 24/7 meant the pills would be left at the counter. He had meant to get there much sooner but the day did not cooperate.

Bright lights burn on white floors and wooden signs are painted where slaves offer their souls. There are only babies here, begging for forgiveness.

“What the hell! Are they watching me?”

Big brother is everywhere. Gray children hide like chameleons in the branches of circumstance. Nothing is as it seems.

Policy cannot save us. Feet are swollen and sick from abuse. Ears have heard too much tongue.

The Butler

It was only about three drags of a smoke to the bus stop. He sat with his tattered belongings pulled against his scrawny legs; folded like an accordion against his chest. The deep blue sky would swallow him someday soon. Even after so many years, he could not find the words and found it best to drift into the comfort of obscurity.

She left when it got real bad; blood oozed onto the needle tip. The best had not been given.

In the end, he knew he was powerless and had to let go; hands cracked from years of worry.

“no copyright infringement is intended” Photo cred to DeBlogs – DePaul University, Chicago https://resources.depaul.edu/deblogs/Logan-Paluch/PublishingImages/10.1.jpg

Grasping At Truth

Just one more twitch and his trembling hand would choke her.

A neck, unshaven, catches on the collar and he loosens his grip; tugging at material, scratching.

Life was not supposed to go this way. How could they not see his true integrity?

Sharp memories pointed to shadows where her limbs once draped like molten flesh and bruised chardonnay.

A hand came to rest and he was absent of everything. His only love was within his grasp.

Just then, headlights passed through the window pane; silhouettes shaped the outcome of what would be.

His coffee ran cold. He was alone.