So far no guesses. I would say it sounds like that awkward moment of crickets…but it’s closer to cicadas these days.
Perhaps it’s the summer, or my new obsession with photography (warning: I am in looove with snapseed and warping photos. More will show up here) but over the past week or so, I’ve been writing poetry. I’ll try and have a longer fiction piece for this weekend/next week. So stay tuned! As for now: another poem.
Rating: PG no warnings
Discarded Pieces
I can’t help but leave
pieces of myself behind:
strands of hair stick to
clothes, dirty socks lay
bunched in corners,
half written poems
cling to napkins, slowly
disintegrating to dust.
The most dangerous
remains are my words,
spoken freely,
carelessly clinging
to the wind. Are
these things mine when
I let them go or, like
old photographs,
echoes of moments
that once were
but no longer are?
My Writings and Musings 