lost
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The clock ticks,,each second a reminderof the charade,the performance that has grown too heavy,too worn Outside, the world around acts happy and joyful with family and home, while I stand numbed by the absurdityof my own existence,my polished and painted on grin cracking,revealing shadows beneath, as ,an urgent whisper: says “Stop,just stop.” It’s time to… Read more
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dust collects on the edges of memories living room walls grayed with outlines of what was,photographs hang in webbed silence each face frozen in a laugh that no longer resounds Their love as a vase cracked, yet still holding water,the stems of our shared days with petals dry, dead on the floor, they dropped only… Read more
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the life clock ticks moment by moment an agonizing reminder of loss; faith slipping through my fingers like dust washed from gold by hydrogen cyanide My forgotten prayers all blurred, my guts are wrenched pleading for resurrection from the death I call life, and the light that never comes Outside, the horror of east coast… Read more
The Quill of Samantha Grace Newcastle 