Wednesday, April 7, 2010

an experiment, in writing.

when she heard the first bars of the song
she felt the familiar regretful pang...
the pavlovian response she had become accustomed to.

but this time, it was different.
the pang became a flutter.

butterflies...

because of him.

because when he looked at her and took her hand, she was home.

past irrelevant, for glorious present and future stood next to her
holding her hand.

2 comments:

Abby said...

Just want to tell you good job on putting these writing experiences out there. I minored in creative writing, and I know it's a little frightening to expose yourself like that.

Kenna said...

if i would have known you when i was in school, i would have paid you to write poems for my poety class, and do my assignments for creative writing.

seriously.