jenbailey79
a broken, lurching thing. resentful sidelong glances drive through me as i watch him drag the body into the grave. thick, hard rain is shoving us into the mud.
oncoming train; phosphorescent light, grown over with ivy on a dark street. a run in my pantyhose over banged-up knees.
little diamond with many facets. locked in a velvet-lined box. does anyone know it's there? does light reach it when it's safe and sound?
shifting pixel thinking counter to the swarm. is losing the way a call to adventure? is a glistening prism sorry it's not a color?
miniscule movements, each a spark in someone's eye. that is the hope. to capture, at great risk, but no risk at all, compared to not capturing the imagination of another human being who might learn to love you. who might move on and do more.