We are all clay pots spinning on spindles and one wrong word will send us crumbling to the ground and breaking right in front of all the spinning spindles that never seem to stop
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Please take the time to check out my poetry blog! It's https://imperfectdisruption.wordpress.com/author/radioactive4080/ , and it would mean a lot to me! Thanks loves!!
Noah’s mind wandered as the two sleeping bodies beside her dreamed. There were twenty-seven large lights in the ceiling, thirteen small ones and six ceiling fans actually embedded in the ceiling, with four sticking out. She had counted everything in the past hour as Sadie had dozed off. There were fourteen benches in the open part of the room, and each of the four steel walls had benches along their peeling, forest green paint. There were thirty-six people in the room including themselves and the guard. She had run out of things to count.
Jax stirred, breathing deeply and shifting. She grinned, watching him. His dark black hair shone in the bright, artificial light, making it seem almost blue. His dark, olive skin highlighted around his high cheekbones and darkened as his cheeks concaved. His long, muscular arms were wrapped loosely around his slender torso. He had a sense of protectiveness about him, the quiet kind that often went unnoticed. He was a bright boy, with piercing, icy blue eyes and a smirk always dangling on his lips. The two of them fit perfectly together, like two puzzle pieces that seemed like they’d fall apart, but hadn’t yet, and probably never would. Jax, when he stood, towered at a staggering 6’9” or so. He was broad shouldered and slim waisted, nothing but bones and lean muscle. He always looked like he knew something you didn’t. Noah, without even realizing it, had begun to recount their brief kiss with a sense of longing, a hazy blush tiptoeing over her cheeks. Jax slowly woke up, careful not to move anything except for his eyelids. He peered at her, the way that she glowed from happiness. Her head was turned so that all he could see was her profile. She was stunning. He slowly started to get up, struggling not to startle Noah. As soon as she sensed his movement, she looked down at him, the blush still tinting her olive cheeks. The shelter was cold, damp, and empty feeling. At the beginning of the wars, the shelters had been packed with people, everyone trying to have a good time and stay warm. But many people had been drafted, and most didn’t return. The ones who did return were so inept; they didn’t even care enough to go down to the shelters. They often hoped that they’d be killed there, a painless, quick death… or an agonizing one, whichever they could get, whichever would end their misery. The wars, they broke you. Not just physically, mentally. They crushed your very being. Noah had seen the breaking happen herself, in her father. She watched as he aged right before her eyes, each day looking like it caused a year of difference, each month its own century.
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Kaley Wood
Young author aspiring to be something great one day. I only post excerpts on here, sorry! ArchivesCategories |