Cupo

Grace Mary Potts

Australia

My life is comprised of inconsistencies, daydreaming, procrastination techniques and occasionally, writing.

Message from Writer

“You wrote down that you were a writer by profession. It sounded to me like the loveliest euphemism I had ever heard. When was writing ever your profession? It's never been anything but your religion." - J.D. Salinger

I would like to say this quote describes me but I'm one of those writers who just procrastinates all the time. More of a "writer" if I'm being honest. To those unfortunate enough to read my work: I very much appreciate any comment you can provide, particularly if it's the constructive kind.

Skies of Speckled Stars

August 10, 2015

PROMPT: Poetry

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Her back bends and curves,
Under unseen weight her spine is curled.
Her head throbs, stomach clenching with nerves,
It feels like the weight of the world.
 
It seeps into her bones,
Heavy limbs trailing the earth,
As though they are made of stones.
She asks, what was it worth?

Her question begs an answer,
Though she will recieve none,
Numb creeps over her like cancer,
Obstructing the shuddered breath in her lungs.

Loss stings at her eyes,
Her sight blurred by beginnings of tears.
Were the happy smiles lies?
Had death beckoned her for years?

Had her cries falled on deaf ears?

Clouds of mist curl from parted lips,
Closed eyes restraining pooling tears.
Her heart, pain grips,
And her stomach twists with dreads and fears.
Happiness shattered by a ringing phone,
Calm broken like a bullet splintering glass.
She stands outside, alone,
Heartbroken, she watches as clouds pass,
Across skies speckled with stars.

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