Dead Names and Broken Smiles
She stares up at her bedroom ceiling. In an attempt to distract her troubled mind she connects the pin-hole dots above her like she does when gazing up at the stars. Her tired eyes roam over a brown spot in the left corner of the ceiling and she makes a mental note to call the repairman in the morning to see when he’d be able to fix the leak.
Memories of the Ocean
The ocean; he reminds me of the ocean. I’ve lost count of the nights I spend lying awake, my cheek resting on my light blue sheets, wishing that they were his cotton button-down shirt. His pale lunar skin makes me think of the moonlight and his dark eyes are like the salt water turned into black ink at night. He is calm on the surface, but beneath the cool façade is a dangerous swirling of emotions that sweep up and pull me under the surface, drowning inside of him. But I can’t think of a better way to die.
