Scrambling…

say no to clowns

through her mind’s thesaurus

she searched for other words for her wrists, singed

her edges smouldering, smoke fringed

internal edges, that is.

Scrambling through the messages in his eyes

he finds the one he wants to send her, hopefully

she’ll read it without doubt, earnestly

not doubting him, that is.

The other he, she should be doubting

he holds that glass, sun’s rays re routing

to warm her, that is

what he’s always told her…

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16 thoughts on “Scrambling…

  1. Nicely kaleidoscopic Vanessa. (A comma? seems fine to me. 🙂) Who can we trust? For some reason, I was reminded of working with infrared laser optics, invisible beams that burn you suddenly in unexpected places. (Note: not a metaphor.)

    Liked by 1 person

hi. friendly banter is always welcome.

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