Knocked Out

His words knocked out all that I had left in my defense. The walls I built over time, piece by piece crumbled into a mass of benign. Silly on the putty he made of me, I watched the air oblige our passing, comfortably walking side by side. He created the groove and keyed my lock, filling all that was lacking in my half filled cup.

My starry eyes, watched this game show life give me more than a constellation prize. Falling from my balloon tethered dreams he arrived a beautiful intention finally realized.

inspired by the prompt ‘knocked out’ at typetrigger.com

Closeted

Opening the door to my closeted self, I was hit with a frigid blast of choice. Aligned on color coded hangers each body stood only inches apart. I slid them from side to side, options dragging along the wooden pole, scratching my flow like a spinning record manipulated for the show. I looked each one over deciding my day before I stepped into it.

Some too tight, others loose, I searched back and forth debating of which I would choose. Carefully drawing the picture in my head of the appearance of each, eliminating one by one until the decision was reached.

Sliding into my newly chosen skin, I layered on the final embellishments to my plume and exited into the world. As I hit the front stoop, a sudden sense of something forgotten. Patting down each pocket of truth, I stood vapid.

“What did I forget?” I interrogated myself trying to backtrack all my steps. As a windy chill hit my barren skin the discovery finally hit. The day had its own measure and I had neglected in my stories choice to consider it.

inspired by the prompt ‘frigid’ at typetrigger.com and a theory of closets from a good friend

Swarm

I walked through the swarm of coralescent dragonflies. The shine of ray splashed on their iridescent wings, a reflection of golden sol sparkle hit my eyes. I drifted in its menagerie, wandering boldly through the looking-glass, there I met eyes with the tree. Letting go to the shimmer of the moments verved brass, we met edges and bonded in serendipity. All but one step left, we carved cups, locking our link chained in eighted infinity.

inspired by the prompt ‘all but one’ at www.typetrigger.com

Hollow

Standing among the teachers, I waited awkwardly in their observation. The air was thick and warm, my feet sinking into the dew laden grass below. Exposed, I waited, forced into patience for the final words to be spoken.

Approached, one knocked on my chest and called out, “It sounds hollow!” and returned to complete the circle.

They closed in, reducing my circumference. Handing me a stick, still covered in jagged bark and last seasons leaves, they moved me toward a great pine tree.

“Awaken and describe the bird that sleeps within.” whispered the wind into my ear. I moved toward it, encumbered by its size. Circling in a paced delineation, I decided to move underneath. Crawling on a bed of dried needles, my skin tearing at their prodding, I tapped the branches to cull the bird and get my assessment underway.

I heard its wings, flap in disturbance and apologized for my interference. I continued in my beat, hoping to at least catch a glimpse. Round and round I went, only agitating its slumber and making it wince. When finally a ruckus, an explosion came forth. Eye to eye with the white spread wings I asked it for any hints.

The stillness ended with a charge of her beak, bolting for my chest the bird was suddenly inside me. I returned to the circle in a hurried rush. “Its inside my chest!” I called out, unsure of my next step.

“Now learn what it looks like.” they replied, turned and left.

 

inspired by the prompt “it sounds hollow” at typetrigger.com

Tacos

Sitting on the curb, I was eating my basket of tacos from the umbrella flagged street vendor. The perfect melt of grease and cheese soaked the tender flesh, seasoned with the perfect layers of chile mesh.

“Perfect moment!” I thought to myself as I absorbed the oozing mess into my being. Consuming my surround,  I looked left then right, seeing no onlookers into my day. Isolated in the masses of crowds, I watched through invisible eyes into their bustling way.

Triggered by an engine knocking free, I turned forward to meet invisible eyes with someone who was watching me. I felt a rise, first in my heart, it told my stomach it was okay to flip. Pulled in our mixed gravity, an instant meeting of our lips.

Forward to forward we targeted each other with precision, our approach purposed as if with a higher vision. We stopped at center, our edges giving a slight singe as they met. My curves matching his way, we snapped together, the last two pieces of the puzzled played.

The final border of our storyboard journey set in time, we fill in its center by coloring outside the lines.

Inspired by the prompt ‘tacos’ at typetrigger.com

Snow

I was the black charcoal eye amid the blanket of stark white snow. The smear of imperfection among the purest of water’s glow. Roaming, I left a track, the only trace that I existed. It slowly covered in each season passed, with the guilt of all that I twisted.

I plowed through the thick mass of icy sting. Losing each sensation under the miles gained. Trudging a labored trench until I was numb surface to bone. Along the way, a forgetful notice of my trail turning from black to gray to none.

Happening upon a break of the common, my eyes met a patch of porcupine trees. In a clearing of all that was my surround I took a moment to listen and see. There I saw myself, polished off  from all that I used to know. Tip of tongue catching flaked thoughts as white as new fallen snow.

Inspired by the prompt ‘snow’ at typetrigger.com

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