Sad (an acrostic poem) (part 2 of Happy)

(This is a continuation of the story started in Happy, the previous poem)

She didn’t feel the smile she wore.

Anyone else would be thrilled to double up their stack at the poker table.

Doing so when she knew he had blundered made her cry a bit inside.  She wasn’t cut out for this.

Veil (an acrostic poem)

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Viewing life through a gauzy sheet of emotions

Everything was fuzzy and slightly off color

It made things less scary and more comfy

Living that way also meant never really knowing what was real

Crisp (an acrostic poem)

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Crunchy salty goodness played footsies with his tongue

Relishing in the dulcet bass tones with each bite

It made getting his fingers greasy so worth it

Still he wiped his hands on his pants before grabbing his Coke

Putting slick hands on a wet can could mean instead of drinking it he would be wearing it

Prime (an acrostic poem)

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Putting all her chips on lucky thirteen.

Roulette rewarded the three to five people who carried luck in their back pocket.

It made one wonder if they were a part of that club.

Maybe it was too much to count on since her skirt didn’t even have a front pocket, much less two.

Eventually, the ball landed on eleven, ending her night.  Time to hit the buffet and eat some of that beef.

Bistro (an acrostic poem)

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Being as hungry as he was, he sat with the menu pondering his options.

It was always tempting to just say, “I’ll have one of everything.”

Silly as that thought was…

Though maybe today was the day to do it.

Really, he had the funds for a once-in-a-lifetime splurge, and this was the right place.

Ordering it all, he made friends sharing all the tapas.

Pulse (an acrostic poem)

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Palpitations made him stop in his tracks

Until his heart began to beat normally

Listening, he could hear others fleeing to the north

So he continued fleeing eastward and hoped his pursuers would go in that direction

Except hope was extinguished when a slug ripped through his chest

Color (an acrostic poem)

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Couldn’t tell the difference between red and blue

Or blue and green for that matter

Looking at everything in grayscale made paint choices easier

Only paying attention to lights and darks

Reaching for his brush he channeled his inner M. C. Escher

Crayon (an acrostic poem)

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Crayola’s yellow box made his eyes go wide.

Realizing all one hundred twenty colors inside were his to work with.

And that thought had him wondering what he should color first.

Yukon forests?  Dragons breathing fire on a horde of gold? Something from the Matrix?

Of course, he could let his imagination run wild and do something totally out of the box.

Next moment he was using a heat gun to make a three-dimensional sunset!