for the season

Sweet things
whispered in her ear
not hers, though
created for the season.

Leaves turned
into fading hues
like his light now shining
on a pretty
wildflower.

© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved

I own the ocean

arrogant raindrops
proudly bragged to have conquered
entire ocean

~~~

© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved

reading love

love encrypted
in the language of clouds
hearts scrambling to decode
an ache to read their deepest secrets
in pregnant raindrops

the need to solve the mystery
answers written in invisible ink

somewhere, someone holds the key
unlocking the gate
to cloud nine

~~~

© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved

why she strolls 

Everybody seems to be racing
to reach an invisible finish line.

(Did they move the goal post
yet again?)

No matter how many times
she sells her soul
they will never be
satisfied.

So she slows
to a stroll
just to make them mad,
just because she can.

~~~

© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved

the return of a god

He’s been here before~
he let them build an altar
where they worshipped him
left right center.

Oh, the feeling of sitting back
watching them bring their souls
in exchange for a drop of his spell.

Surely they
can be fooled
twice.

~~~

© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved

the reason

I found
your missing strand of crimson
in her wicker basket,
and I knew
why our sky
had turned gray.

The heavens opened up
and the rain had not been my friend
since then.

~~~

© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved

revulsion

I’ll stick with this shade of black,
thank you very much.
I’ve seen your blinding colors
all sweetness
more than honey to the bees,
and they made me feel
nauseated.

~~~

© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved

why I’m still here

Yes, they found me here
again. Why do you keep
coming back,
they ask,
have you not anywhere else to go
and things to do
other than collecting remnants
of thoughts?

You see, these
are more than just
remains.
They are strands
of memories, of ideas
reflecting where I came from
and where I may be going.

Some places are meant
to become sacred space
to expose the raw,
broken side
of the person who looks in the mirror
hiding beauty in the darkness
behind a smile.

I steal moments and come here,
alone, getting lost for a spell
so I can learn to find my way back
to mindfulness.

~~~

© annie scribes 2017
all rights reserved