Chris' Blog

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My writing

0 likes : 143 views : May 25, 2017

She’s deep in the red. Deep in the darker tones of blood and moody crimsons that are warm to the touch. She’s in a dark room with her eyes closed, and her breathing is like that you would expect to hear if she was drowning. It makes me wonder if she might be, but her rich red turns vibrant in an instant. Light is now flooding in and her eyes are opened. She’s on the shore, and the sun touches with a firmer warmth than her colors did a moment ago. The tides always bring her out of the harm and in to light. In the light there’s safety; In the light there’s strength. If not strength, then at the very least a lack of frailty. Still, there’s cold stretching out like roots from her frozen bones, and they’re weaving through the tissue of her muscles to knot. Every blink takes away the happy thoughts, and for the briefest moment there’s a reminder she’s freezing. Eyes open to sunshine; close to cruel bones. The winter is exhausting. Exhausting. It’s exhausting but it’s coming from her bones. It’s the one sharp sound that always cuts through the steady hum, but it’s coming up through her bones and I can’t help. 

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