For now…

for now…

i. feel. lost.

small darting eyes


with no one

too afraid

to look up,

for now.


lust and disgust leave

sour seeds on my tongue

that grow burgeoning

bashfulness and uncertain unsaid words

burn like fire.


scorched, hurt ego limps

hunting crutches

hoping to patch wounds with

sultry smoke and golden liquid

dampen ire and fury,

for now.


soon excess will saturate

numbness replaces angst

i will

cease to be

a broken zombie

bumping into walls.


fake smiles mask

dirty gazes,

foul places,

for now.


This was a response to this week’s Red Writing Hood prompt: Jealousy. Pop over and link up or check out of the other posts.



About Theresa

Writer, sister, mother, human.