His name argues for sanity
sparking with a pulsing beat
she asks for familiarity
hoping for something sweet
His name mirrors police sirens
screaming down the gutter
a scribbled note by his bed
and a name tag that lost its owner
His name is a local call
haunting her number
she answers, having forgotten
he’s hidden in ground
under a pile of lumber
His name is a deep red
painted in her eyes
a reflection of the calluses
which surface beyond her lies
His name will develop
as the wings of a butterfly
though maybe not today
when the sun still mourns his goodbye
His name is her sin
his name, a child’s grief
his name for now is forgotten
a burden—a stabbed masterpiece
About the Creator
Alivia Evans
Writing Blogger
Keep reading
More stories from Alivia Evans and writers in Poets and other communities.
It Only Took One Minute.......
It only took a minute. I was sitting at the computer in my office when the phone rang. I picked up the receiver and then laid it down my desk as I went to find the student who the call was for. Within seconds I was back at my desk, ready to resume typing, when I heard the student yelling obscenities at me for listening in to his call through the handset that was still lying on the desk. Sick and tired of the lies he was spewing, I was up running down the hall, ready to kill him. By the time I reached him, I had calmed enough not to hurt him, but as I turned back towards my room, I knew that I couldn’t go on like this any longer. The decision was clear. I had to leave.
By Gail Wylie6 days ago in Motivation
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.