waiting for her

Early morning, late January. Chunks of sun-stressed ice fell from the gutters outside

while I waited for her eyes to open.

Clenching my arm, her grip betrayed tranquility.

She constantly demanded attention, even in slumber.

I stared at this silent version of her, one which finally received respite

from the demons it spent each waking hour sparring.

I watched and waited, for her eyes to open.

Artist: Wendy Heldmann

sugar sunday

They sat in their underwear on his gold velvet couch, eating doughnuts like unsupervised children.

Glazed lips and powdery breath fused sugar smiles, while morning became afternoon, somewhere else.

(Photo: self)