Scribbled Memoirs


∼From the Writing Vault∼
Tattered Love Notes & Scribbled Memoirs
As I look into the mirror, I see my face,
My tear stained skin bloody patches of emotions
Just take my world and kill my spirit.
I looked down my nose between my broken glasses, a crushing smell of vulnerability.
When I pieced together each shattered part of the hourglass, tasteless blood rattled my tongue.
I could not spit,
Sweet and Sour lingered long and haunted my senses.

Rock….Solid…..Hidden deep in the covering of morning fog. Holding up the ground and shifting earth in directions of magnetic connectivity. Below the earth is a sturdy appearance, but listening quietly you can hear the air leaking out, as air and soil and feet are smushed together. Soil as rich with emotion. Water, rain ,tears all flowing over time and through the ages. 
A jagged rocks at times seemed to stick out, jagged and rough, each layer peeling back exposed ground weeping with age. The deeper the hole the quicker I feel the rushing waters, tumbling under-ground. At times the silent hole seems to swallow me as I dig, deeper.  Digging clumps of moist earth until the cracks of my hole split open as to let me into a secret underground oasis.