Writing Prompt #117 NoEnd House Part 2″ and Wordle #142


A cornflower sky folds

Behind a pair of captive mirrors.

The first to arrive

Often goes home alone.

(if at all)

Struck by the indifference

Of my own meager expectations

I wait, a bit of flesh

A filigree of scars,

Graven by the same hand

Meant to erase them.

I chew my index finger

Off at the root,

A spare key furnished

Of might and desperation.

Locked out, noncommittal

My lone heart sits ajar.

I chase doors as they form

In the caress of your eyes,

In the scarlet of worried lips.

A room swarms with echoes.

I thought I could pack you

Into my open wounds

But, however deep, the blood

Always seeps through.

I carry your heartache

In my unwashed skin

In the organs

Soft and unapproachable

Like metaphorical fruit.

My perfect dreams

Unraveling in the wake

Of a patient nightmare.