Tag: writing challenge

Between Sips

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Photo by Ahmose Athena

I think of you between the early morning coffee sips

As I watch the time slipping between us like dirty silk.

I ask for forgiveness, so your shoulders shoo the chips.

Maybe it is too late to mourn all the spilled milk.

The ghouls I left behind me in the streets of my town,

They still clown around and peek through dusty windows.

I hear them cursing the ground I walk while they drown,

Saying women like me only go where the wind blows.

Still, each sentence you say holds me down like an anchor.

Rose colored things wash me out, but you never do.

I wish on you like a star with my selfishness and anger,

And I hope that you see me among all of the blue.

My sanity escapes me when you pull away once more,

But each time I know you will come back tomorrow.

I have never chased the loneliness of being adored,

Yet, even your sharpest words drown out all my sorrow.

-Jackie

They Feed On My Stories

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Photo by Alexey Demidov

I see them holding my fingers,

But I cannot feel their warm touch on my skin.

The numbness flows through me like a river,

Pushing me down like a pin.

I know I must go on without feeling.

This is the path I must follow ‘til the end.

Severed heads float through the air screaming,

But there is no time to bend.

I rush towards the neon door,

Searching for a single sign that could stop me.

The eerie emptiness speeds up time,

And every new exit is just a copy.

I trip on the wires and cables,

Falling down the hole that they’ve dug so neatly,

And they rip my stories from my shaking hands.

I really hope death beats me.

-Jackie

Sinking Feeling

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Photo by Ethem Kartal

There’s plenty of sadness lingering in the careless tears you left in me.

My head spins around like a disco ball, deflecting the grey trepidation.

Must all my stories end in loss and someone innocent leaving?

You know I let you quit as you please, so what’s with the hesitation?

I swear that no sea can compete with the sinking feeling you give me,

But the highs smell like early spring rain and my will succumbs to you.

Only I can save myself from this silver trap I built for the two of us.

Still, I’m hoping that you won’t run when you see that I’m not waterproof.

Don’t tell me you’re sorry about the way you cut me into pieces,

And I won’t tell them the promises that you made just to get high.

The feeling inside will dissolve like fog if I dare to breathe in the fumes,

But I’m not sure if I want to see the truth when I’m covered in your lies.

-Jackie

A Thousand Little Fantasies

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Photo by Yura Forrat

In my city the stories keep writing themselves

While my dearest people change like the seasons.

The marigold leaves intrigue my senses,

And the faces I meet accuse me of treason.

The witch trials commence, but I’m a spectator.

I know that they will not relight that flame.

A thousand little fantasies blur my vision,

And I wish I could trap them all in a frame.

No, these streets will not let me capture the magic.

They glare at me as I write down these lines.

My city snaps necks of romantics and poets.

I avert my gaze and wonder why I’m alive.

The sun sets as it lets the moon out of its cage,

And the wooden church sings its ghostly tune.

A thousand little fantasies bleed into tales,

Turning my empty vessels deep maroon.

-Jackie