Chilled to her bones, she tried to finish her typing, listening to the percussive clatter of the keys
Only the chattering wasn’t just the keyboard, but her teeth beat a duet with her fingers
Leaving her to wonder if the furnace was ever going to kick in
Didn’t remember she had placed a hold on it so no heat came for a long time
Living day to day, depending on his luck for sustenance
Orbiting his need for money and his need to be creative
The two pulling in opposite directions, their tidal forces ripping him apart
Today was a day where art and hunger went hand in hand as he painted
Every ounce of his imagination was placed on the canvas stroke by stroke
Revealing a mixture of magic and his soul, bound in sweat and paint
Yet it didn’t sell, leaving him destitute and feeling like he lost at life
A collection of things that mean so much to the curator
Love wrapped in plastic and placed in a binder
Building the history of a lifetime one photo at a time
Until it is placed away on a shelf where it awaits the proper time
Meaning the time to pull it out when her first boyfriend visits
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
self-publishing
Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
Sharing is Learning
AUTHOR
Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
Things I love, typically with people I love. Will likely be hiking, baking, and doing other things that make me happy.
The Official Home of Rolli - Author, Cartoonist and Songwriter
Wise. Witchy. Wonderful.
Story world
Never Short On Words 