coloring us

Sit here next to me beneath the tree
I’ll show you the dreams I drew in my book
tell me if you like the colors
I put on me and you.

Red is for the heart offered on a plate,
blue is for the lungs gasping for air,
because our lips are kissing
so hard.

Black is for the rock that is my strength
covered in white that is your soul
and the wiggly green lines here are the way
your touch tickles my core.

Let’s not forget the purple shades
smeared all across our horizon
married with the crimson hues.
And when sunset nudges us
to say goodbye to twilight
tomorrow we’ll come back here
and go through the pages


© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved


She saw a woman
with a pair of big brown eyes
something about her,
never seen before,
pulling everyone close yet
pushing them away
all at once.

Curiosity got
the better of her, so she approached
to examine the face a little more.

“How can you be so warm
and indifferent
at the same time?
How did you shed the old cloak
slip into this strange gossamer
right before our eyes?”

Something familiar flashed
in her big brown eyes
the voice calming and low
softly whispered,

“It takes a lot of practice
but you’ll get there-
it’s the need to survive.”

After a while she remembered
she had been talking
to her own reflection.


© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved

from a dark place

How did you find this place even when dreams
had been buried deep down in the ground?
Maybe ’twas the scent you sprayed in my mouth
when you kissed me and planted such
beautiful words in my brain.
Some dreams are meant to die, others are
not meant to see dawn at all.
When you’re done,
close the door
behind you.


© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved

all a mirage

They found her curled up in the dark corner of a forsaken shed: seemingly at peace, restful, right where she belonged.

“Come home,” they crooned. “We’ll watch sunsets together again.”

She said nothing, but her eyes caressed all hearts looking down at her. As she spilled invisible words that had been begging to be set free, she wondered how many of these souls really wanted her to return, and how many came to see her with a dagger behind their back.


For #WhisperingNeds 94.

© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved.

the screams of dreams

The dream of you screams the loudest in the seconds between being awake and succumbing to slumber.

Some nights the dreams are so demanding, I fear falling asleep, for there you’d be mine and I’d never want to wake, ever again.


© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved