stanza (Remove filter)
Post Traumatic Echos
moonlight tastes sour
sweat runs through bedroom sheet veins
she gives up on sleep
hallway footfalls
undesired sharp edges
reverberations
echos beat within
in discord with her heart
as hands grip at wind
doorknob, alive, there
embraced by her palm frantic
gasp … inhale … freedom
Monday 29th May 2017 5:51 pm
Recent Comments
TOM MERTON on Oh Happy Christmas Time
21 minutes ago
TOM MERTON on After summing up
48 minutes ago
Graham Sherwood on Reporters
1 hour ago
Auracle on EVEN THE OLIVES WERE BLEEDING
2 hours ago
Red Brick Keshner on ashes from your urn
2 hours ago
David RL Moore on ashes from your urn
3 hours ago
David RL Moore on War in Season
3 hours ago
Stephen Gospage on MEALS ON WHEELS
4 hours ago
Stephen Gospage on Donkey Jacket
4 hours ago
Stephen Gospage on EVEN THE OLIVES WERE BLEEDING
4 hours ago