a girl bends her words
letting the letters change
shapes with her thoughts
departing from a midnight ride
she moves with tender strides
down the dented road
daylight splits the sky in two
believing it to be her destiny
she flies toward infinity
One Single Impression: Departed (A Small Look Inside)
Last Exit
There she is again, sitting on the blue bench staring up at the advertisements. She always reads them no matter that she has read them a hundred times. She wears her gold heart-shaped earrings every day. Today, they are upside down. Normally, they are straight or a bit angled. If her blonde hair is up, I can see them gleaming a few feet away.
I watch her often. Sometimes I wish I could speak to her. Sometimes I even sits next to her. But she never notices me or anyone else. Her attention is always on the advertisement or occasionally a paperback, usually a mystery. A smile is always present on her lips unless she is reading and in those cases, her lips are push together and her brows brunch together in two vertical lines.
But tonight, she does neither. Her smile is gone and her gray eyes falls to the floor searching for something. Now and then, she looks up to check the station name but then she continues to watch the floor and all the shoes that shuffles pass her.
Her body has been withering away for some time now. Her red winter coat no longer clings to her. Instead it hangs on her like drapery being blow in the wind. Her once bright face now looks hollow without warmth. I place myself next to her after someone leaves the seat. I can sense her distress. Her lips curves into an uneven line. Her long lashes flutters without joy. Where has her sunshine gone? I want to reach out and touch her naked hands that clutch her black gloves in a ball on her lap.
The heat from below the seats emanates into the air. I don't sweat but I am sure it's much too warm in here. The few people around us all has their coats off. Winter is not in here. It sits outside the train windows and on the train platform. She is not sweating but looks rather cold. Somehow that scares me. As the train comes to another stop, she lowers her head into her lap. Her long hair still shines and it spreads out like rays of sunlight. More people leave the train. I try not to look at her but my eyes refuse to obey me.
The last person to leave is an old man with a white dog in a white cage. The dog's black beady eyes stare at me but I pay no attention. Tonight, I can only see the woman next to me. The train doors swings open. The speaker announce it to be the last stop.
Still, she sits there with her head in her lap. I would have like to shake her awake but I cannot. After a few moment, she lifts her head up. Her eyes seem more vivid, more alert. She surprise me by turning to me to ask me where we were. I am too shock to speak. She smiles and says it's alright. She turns to read the plaque on the subway wall. Then she gets up and starts strolling the train.
How long has it been since I met one of my kind? I wish I knew the answer. But I estimate it to be twenty or thirty years by the changing looks of the trains and the stations. I never believed in karma before but now I do. If I haven't been here I would not have seen her. If I have left, I would not have known her.
She needs me to tell her. If I don't say the words, she might not accept it. She sits down next me and smile. I start to tell her but her eyes stare at me with such pleasantness that I could not say anything. Her face shine with so much life. She gets up again and starts wandering the train, giggling as she touch one pole after another. I am sure she will soon realized what she has become but for now I will wait.
3WW: Karma, Obey, Wither
I watch her often. Sometimes I wish I could speak to her. Sometimes I even sits next to her. But she never notices me or anyone else. Her attention is always on the advertisement or occasionally a paperback, usually a mystery. A smile is always present on her lips unless she is reading and in those cases, her lips are push together and her brows brunch together in two vertical lines.
But tonight, she does neither. Her smile is gone and her gray eyes falls to the floor searching for something. Now and then, she looks up to check the station name but then she continues to watch the floor and all the shoes that shuffles pass her.
Her body has been withering away for some time now. Her red winter coat no longer clings to her. Instead it hangs on her like drapery being blow in the wind. Her once bright face now looks hollow without warmth. I place myself next to her after someone leaves the seat. I can sense her distress. Her lips curves into an uneven line. Her long lashes flutters without joy. Where has her sunshine gone? I want to reach out and touch her naked hands that clutch her black gloves in a ball on her lap.
The heat from below the seats emanates into the air. I don't sweat but I am sure it's much too warm in here. The few people around us all has their coats off. Winter is not in here. It sits outside the train windows and on the train platform. She is not sweating but looks rather cold. Somehow that scares me. As the train comes to another stop, she lowers her head into her lap. Her long hair still shines and it spreads out like rays of sunlight. More people leave the train. I try not to look at her but my eyes refuse to obey me.
The last person to leave is an old man with a white dog in a white cage. The dog's black beady eyes stare at me but I pay no attention. Tonight, I can only see the woman next to me. The train doors swings open. The speaker announce it to be the last stop.
Still, she sits there with her head in her lap. I would have like to shake her awake but I cannot. After a few moment, she lifts her head up. Her eyes seem more vivid, more alert. She surprise me by turning to me to ask me where we were. I am too shock to speak. She smiles and says it's alright. She turns to read the plaque on the subway wall. Then she gets up and starts strolling the train.
How long has it been since I met one of my kind? I wish I knew the answer. But I estimate it to be twenty or thirty years by the changing looks of the trains and the stations. I never believed in karma before but now I do. If I haven't been here I would not have seen her. If I have left, I would not have known her.
She needs me to tell her. If I don't say the words, she might not accept it. She sits down next me and smile. I start to tell her but her eyes stare at me with such pleasantness that I could not say anything. Her face shine with so much life. She gets up again and starts wandering the train, giggling as she touch one pole after another. I am sure she will soon realized what she has become but for now I will wait.
3WW: Karma, Obey, Wither
Exiled from summer
exiled from summer
shift in time
to the sound of colors
they change hues
with a waft of a laugh
a touch
a simper or
a word
they linger
in the fallen leaves
in the wild wind
in the wake of a new day
unable to leave
they stay in photographs
and storage boxes
they hide in open umbrellas
and closed books
they sleep
until time
becomes a fading
everafter
One Single Impression: Shift in Time
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I am a amateur of words, drafting & crafting, hoping & dreaming until the sky dries my ink.
