The girl and the lake

She reflects upon the surface
As the cold wet arms of the lake
Take her in their deadly embrace.
She feels the cold tendrils curl
Around her calves, her thighs, her waist.

The water pales her skin,
It darkens her lips
It shadows her pale serene eyes,
ecstatic in its aqueous grip.

The darkness envelops her,
the currents caress her
as the lake takes her under;
binds her in a fatal matrimony.

A cold, pale and bloated wife,
torn from her former life.
The lake is a jealous lover,
needy and clasping and hungry.
It pulls and it tugs; an insistent caress.

The flow of the undertow
balloons her white dress
as the life finally flows from her eyes
and bubbles rise from her throat
carrying the last of her sighs.
The lake is a jealous lover.


Cold winds blow over a desolate landscape
howling through the hollow places.
Solitary footprints disturb the dust.

Frigid, forsaken and blasted world,
where silence is so loud
screaming its pain into the biting gust.

Jagged, jutting bones of failed relationships
the expectant pause of words unsaid
a symphony of regret; a chorus of misplaced trust.

Cityscapes of misspent chances mingle
with the spider web of broken roads.
A bitter and empty honeycomb.

Windows bulge with age and neglect
tattered curtains billow and grasp
for a comfort they have never known

No warmth; no healing touch.
No arms to hide in; to chase away the dark.
A raw and vacuous home.