Quietly, ever so furtively,
she slips from their bed
and glides her way on down the hall.
She will not wake him with her tread.
She sits in the soothing darkness
and tries to quiet her screaming head.
There is no sleep for one who is lost,
one whose soul is dead.
(A WIP, I think. It doesn't feel finished)
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2 comments:
Wow- I agree it isn't finished, but it's a powerful beginning...
Yay for Blogspot! Shall we just switch journals at random times together forevermore? Teehee.
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