Sunday, 9 March 2014

By The Candlelight

Candles flicker at the end of the soap-sudded bathtub.  Some have company; most are alone.  Bubbles prickle and whisper and pop.  A naked body with one silver chain, battling the thoughts within.   A time when thoughts bounce around your head, tasting the temptation of letting themselves free or otherwise remaining forever in secret. 

The bubbles begin to disappear, revealing the bare skinned body to the empty room.  A naked soul.  For none to see.  The pen meets paper but the thoughts won’t come.  There are no words.  

A pen lid.  Submerged in water.  Drowning in words; dispersing splotched ink.  Swimming in a sea of what could be written.  But never to be seen.   These crispy, yet soft damp pages, of thickness and trust.  Will one day turn to dust.  

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