It’s about priorities. Make a conscious decision to spend your time on what is important to you.
At her touch the raspy scales constricted and coiled, tensed into an anxious lowercase e.
Somewhere in the dusk a bird begins its goodnight song, the tune more mournful now, more wistful now. What does he know?
But then in time
Too soon it’s easy to forget
What it was like when she was gone,
What you were like without her there.
He had gone away years before. Away, as in not there, not where Miranda was, not around when she needed him—or someone, anyone—to be in her corner.
She feels it beating at its cage like desperate fists pounding inside a coffin that’s been closed too soon, buried too soon.
Outside someone else’s window the neighbour’s wife
. . .
I whisper my confessions to the lake that holds my secrets.
I’m fading away
Camouflaged into the background
Even as the world is fearing