A heave of breath,
Slowly rising and falling,
A mind numbing, blood curdling,
Breast thumping cry….

This night will never end,

Like squirrel we scamper,
Trying to find cover. We fail. As always!

Our bodies,
A live canvas,
Red. Blue.
Enmeshed with
Streaks of brown and black.

Visually alive.
Spiritually dead.

Chronicles of a my life
A facsimile of yours

Prompted at : Poefusion Friday 5



  1. Winnie this is an excellent try. I think this speaks volumes to many women and even some men. Well done. Have a nice night.

  2. 🙂 beautiful

    small, but speaks a lot. keep writing, im just ‘roun da corner ok? 🙂

  3. winner, the friday five melted inbetween those lines as honey… beautiful !!

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