Instinct (feeling)

Illuminating, another dream. A waking life of happenstance.
Caught in your collapsing eyes, a scorched dream.
That empty coffee cup. That missed train.
Find me there.
Calling to you in a voice only God can hear.
The type of sound you can expect only at Christmas.
With choral tunes and awaiting disappointment.
Feelings. Stopped. Frozen for another time.
Frozen, in the summer rain that you hold me under.
I am the moth that flew back to the mountain.
The dragon under foot with a thorn in its side.
I am the love we had that fell into the ocean.
Lost forever in an indifferent tide.

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Words words words

For short stories and wonderful writing, please take at look at Harley Holland Adams
Amazing writer, and brilliant ideas. More info here.

Just a sample:

THE PALE MOTH

They say that there was once a moth so pale

That her family were scared she was too frail.

Never too far in the darkness or close to the light

Her family huddled around her every night.

And every morning pale moth would cry

That if she ever fulfilled her dream she would die.

To dance and fly in the snow

Would be the greatest way to go.

Fearing this the old ones planned

To give the pale moth something sweet and Grande.

And on that very night pale moth saw a flash and fizzle

A series of flakes began to drizzle.

This snow was not what she had known to expect

But she span and danced without detect

That her family began to disappear

Replaced by snow she had always held dear.

And so pale moth delighted in the snow storm

Never wondered why the flakes were ashen and warm.