writers of wordpres

in dreams,
your eyes are blue and
I am terrified I will
get swallowed by the ocean.
often, I am outrunning a
tidal wave. sometimes,
I am in the middle of two waves
coming from opposite directions
and there’s no land in sight.
once, the girl brought me to
return a book in the current
as the wave was
building, and she had no fear.

for those who believe in fairy
tales, first comes love,
then betrayal, then
the crow to tell the
morbid wail of
widowed,
accused.
and the hidden thread;
the unreliable narrator
springing from the
Lullian Circle,
knave at side or
just a knife around
her neck.