She was nice.
So uselessly nice.

“Papa, did you ever go into the attic to retrieve the decorations like I asked?” Linda’s voice cut through the hallway again, sharp enough to poke a hole through my last bit of peace. I rolled my eyes. How many times was she going to nag me about those damn decorations? 

The morning dew is,
Easy to catch.
It was welcoming and refreshing, 
Yet now it hurts. 
You’re old enough now to be free,
Yet the fences buzz.
But, what’s out there,
For you?

Tears are expected,
Like rain though the sun shines.
Not of sadness, but gladness because,
We see your face.

no more than twelve
walks like he is trying to sneak up on the world,
hesitating with each step,
as if the world is trying to take the little he has left.

When I say “no” I mean that 
Why do I have to repeat what I say? 
Why is this world so nasty, 
Why do men always want their way? 

This isn’t a pretty flower to much
Most pass it’s treasure unnoticed
It’s presence, much like stop signs,
we see and ignore
These ordinary flowers
are the seeds of our island,
planted more than beaches eroded and resorts built

Whilst strolling cross the alley
I saw a wilted tree
It’s roots and stems, they’ve sprouted
But unrested like me

*clop* *clop* *clop*

The sound of numerous horse hooves trotting along a dirt path could be heard among the many other sounds of village life. Among the mundane ambience of the village various merchants could be spotted advertising their wares which ranged from weapons, oil, healing elixirs, herbs and many more lucrative items stored away in the pack mules residing behind their owner. However of the countless merchants lining the sides of the street one stood out the most.

 It was skin prickling, chilly Halloween night. The kind of chill that makes cold seep into your bones at the very second you step outside. Goosebumps scattered across Martha’s skin as she got her son ready for trick or treating with his friends.

Oh Invisible Man
Where have you gone again?
Was it to party and dance? 
Wasting your liver away just for a chance
To be seen? 

There is color in my skin
Where certain spots
The sun chooses to dance leaving warm
Dark paint splatters along the way.
The other parts don't have the same fate,
Where the  light, blank patches were, the dark should have been.

Your love is 
dirty against my skin
Like stubborn smudges
water can’t persuade
And a covering too heavy for a heart,
It lingers and coats me in its murkiness.

My child, my Child,
Clings to me as I hold his back
With a whispered prayer.
My pocket is empty,
Yet there is food.

When Tim’s parents died his world fell into a black hole. He didn't know what to make of his life with a new reality. He felt lost, depressed and discouraged but suddenly there was light at the end of the tunnel.

Frantically stuffing the heavy duty construction garbage bag into the large plastic container, Julia dragged it into a dark corner of the basement, walked up the stairs and slammed the door behind her. Julia turned the brass key in the keyhole locking the door like she was a prison guard locking away the most dangerous killer on death row.

Since my youth
I’ve known your embrace.
Felt your cold, hair raising trail 
Unexpected, creeping silently,
Like a thief. 

I have a love hate relationship with the ringing of the phone. I am not always eager to receive immediate communication.
Ring, ring, ring.
Who is on the other end of the line? I hope it is someone I want to hear from.