Bleed

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Bleeding red
in between lines of blue;
the words I never spoke,
always written.

Sitting silent
spilling
intimate thoughts in cursive.

Keep my secrets close,
never share a word,
tell a soul; let me bleed.

Here with you.
Here in couplets and verses.

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Creases

 

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Credit: Olga Rykova
in her aged skin,
midst her lips,
branched around her eyes.

Her body an hourglass of beach-like sand
washed along ocean end;
smoothed to the surface by a midnight high tide;
reflected waters’ perfection
in morning sunrise.

Artist’s Palette

It’s fun to imagine
the taste and touch of a colors,
and not just their appearance.

Red is said to be hot and burning with passion,
but mixed with black, the color of fear,
no one would give it a second glance.

But what if red is ice-cold and blue
is ice-hot then maybe colors need
more than just sight.

As judged on appearance alone
it would be a terrible, terrible life
for a world full of colors

colors down drain

One Reader, One Writer

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between these lines,
within these margins
stories are told.
With a few letters
strung together
into words and
a hint of feeling
it can spark an emotion

and connect between
two strangers.

One reader,
one writer,
one journey both
can have,
together.

When words run out
and the lines turn blank the
reader leaves
writer writes,
and both go on
living parallel lives
miles apart.

Always connected together
through the simplest of words