inkblot1218
She could feel a tight grip on her arm; feel the touch snaking over her shoulders and down the length of her back. Tirelessly he preyed on her, his assaults falling fruitlessly with each new bout. She batted him away scornfully, but he continued with his assaults until she finally decided it was due time to leave.
Wears the mask of many; yet often, that is a mask of many years, etched in lines across his forehead. A job that seems simple enough, but piles burden upon burden, turning a young many into a carved, rigid statue. A fool, in every sense of the word, for having signed-up for the mess in the first place.
When the light fades
Heaven come help us.
We'll hide in our cathedrals,
wrapped tight in blankets of love.
Woven for assurances,
woven from kind advice;
woven from the mother's touch
we long fog so much.
When the light grows dark,
and the moons brings shadows.
We scurry to our cathedrals,
begging,
Heaven come help us.
writing since 2012 · 7 entries · 6 days shown up
each square is a day—lit means Heather showed up.
2longest streak
6days written
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the words Heather reaches for
darklightheavenhelptightwovenhillcathedralstouchmaskburdencarvedmoonorbskysingle