Sense

I wish
To feel
Once more
That taste
Of skin
Upon
My lips
To kiss
Again
While
Gently
Tracing
Fingers
Down
Rosy
Cheeks

Astral Projection

Astral projection became easier with practice, but she found that sometimes her dreams, and the projected reality she visited, became confused with the sounds of the world where she lay sleeping.
As she floated gracefully over the serene moonlit landscape below, she couldn’t help but dance along to The Ketchup Song.

—

Couldn’t resist this!

In response to Jane Doughtery’s Sunday Strange Microfiction Challenge.

<deleted>

Advertisement

A million styles
In myriad colours tried
Nothing fits like you

Fleeting fear

Sunday silence filled with tears
Born of as yet unknown fears

Will you be a lingering ghost
Or one who stays and loves the most?

Pull too hard and you will go;
Push away, I’ll never know.

Murmuration

Moved to move by powers unseen,
Caught, in vast collective dreams.
Dance beneath the glass and steel
Chasing what we feel is real.
Repress our individuality
Communally respond to ‘buy me’.
Murder of magpies, no starlings we;
A murmuration of the seeming free.

—

In reaponse to the Daily Prompt from dailypost.

Morning

Bare feet carry her softly down the corridor. Gentle curves displayed through thin cotton, translucent in the glow of the early morning sun, bursting over the horizon, chasing away the last vestiges of night.

Coffee scent begins to fill the air. Hot steam, mixed with jasmine billows from the bathroom.

The freshness of a new day, aches to be appreciated.
—

Because I needed to write something different. 🙂

Sometime after 2

It is always your time
That hour
Between 2 and 3
When I lie awake
In darkness
Waiting to wake up.

Roaring silence

Without your music
The silence swells
Until it is
Everything

Roaring
Drowning
Descending

To black depths.

You burst into mind
A red dress capturing curves,
The music brings tears

Where we never stood

Do you still recall that day?
Before you once again depart,
So many words I long to say.
Were it to be another way,
Beneath these blossoms’ gentle hues
Your hand would be in mine to stay.
A boiling sky of storms betrays
The raging torment of my heart,
As I stand here and quietly pray.