Gray

Years ago, Mr. Gray 
married 
the enchanting 
Miss Rose Orange, 
and 
together 
they had a beautiful 
daughter,
properly named Violet.
Unfortunately, 
Violet was more Blue
than Gray
and 
inherited her dear mother's 
thorns.
Life was a bit prickly 
after that.

-Nichelle Lei

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Daily Prompt: Moon

20160718_030119871_iOS
Moon, 
you followed me,
across the State line,
hidden and demure
in the day's
light.
So faint
and silent,
hovering o'er me
unseen,
as I,
distracted
by the music
fading in and out
through my stereo
speakers,
raced on,
oblivious.

Down the road,
I felt your gaze
and met it.
I wondered upon
you.
Your face...
was brighter
in the fading light,
glowing 
with the
knowledge
that 
night
was just around
the corner.

I forced my eyes
back onto the 
blacktop 
to break 
the spell.
Your 
light
is 
so 
dangerous.

-Nichelle Lei

via Daily Prompt: Moon

Daily Prompt: Surface

Surface
I bubble up to the surface 
chasing the orbs that 
slip from my mouth.
I wish it were fear.
I wish it were anger.
I wish it were pain
escaping me.
I dive down again.
I could stay
on the bottom
of this pool
forever,
staring up
at the surface
where life occurs.
It happens.
Life.  
Often it hurts.
The water feels safer,
an amorphous embrace.
Like a mother's womb.
I could stay,
if it weren't for 
this weakness;
the need 
for life, 
for air,
for the burning
in my lungs
to subside,
the need to see
with wet eyes
what waits for me
up there.
That life,
malformed and wavy
through a watery frame
stares down
at me 
from the surface,
taunting me.
You need me.
You breathe me,
and sometimes
You love me.
Curiosity grabs me.
I bubble up to the surface 
chasing the orbs that 
slip from my mouth.

-Nichelle Lei

 

via Daily Prompt: Surface

Profound Words

 

They find me

under the covers

at night,

speeding through thoughts

behind the wheel,

always nipping at my heels.

They climb inside my head

and scream,

"Write me..."

I run from them,

and I love them so

I cannot decipher

which part of them

begins and ends 

apart from me

and which part

makes up myself.

Can I live a full life

without these words,

in human form,

finding their way to paper?

If I find myself 

taking my last breath,

knowing I have not 

given them the life 

they wanted

(still screaming 

and trying to 

bleed out of 

my fingertips

through

the swirls 

and unique 

shapes that

name me,

make me 

Me),

will I have failed?

If I'm the only one

who ever knows them

will my life have 

been profound?


-Nichelle Lei 



write image

Profound

False

false
You're false

like your teeth

like the eye

you lost when you

were five

running with 

a stick

while chasing

your cousin;

That eye,

the one that

remains clear

while the other

is cloudy

with cataracts.


You're false.


On the outside 

you're old

and damaged,

but within

you laugh

like a child.

Is this so wrong?


You're false


like your breasts

like your lips

like your smile;

The smile which

fails to touch your 

eyes.

Are you so rare,

though?

False.

A sparkling 

exterior

lovely to look

upon,

yet

dull and 

lifeless 

within.

No light.

No shine.

'So, tragic

to be so

false.

-Nichelle Lei

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

False