![[personal profile]](https://www.dreamwidth.org/img/silk/identity/user.png){kind=small}
Drabbles. Original work drabbles, not fannish ones. But maybe you'll read them anyway. Oh well, if you don't. Just bored, feeling like pounding out a few verses and couldn't quite focus long enough to write anything coherant. Hence, drabbles. Untitled, unrated, unknown WTF they are. But here they be:
1) Thick blue drapes cover the window, tinting the morning sunlight with shades of shadow, creating a moratorium gloom throughout the room. Midnight coverlets drawn across our bodies as we cling together, not for warmth or safety, but for comfort. Silk skin and liquid touch, our arms are locked fiercely to each other just as our lives are locked away from the space outside this room. His heartbeat reverberates through his touch, his breath, his kiss. His flesh is my flesh, his touch is my touch. This dream is mine…
And then I awake, cold and alone in a darkened room.
2) The sounds of sleeplessness thunder through the echoing blackness. The rustling of bedclothes, the heavy breaths of nightmare conquests, the soft wimpering as the painful day slides away into the too-short night. The glowing eyes of the digital clock are masked with thick black tape. The windows are covered with dark linen, nailed into the wooden frames to keep the darkness in as well as to keep the light out. Only darkness lives in this room, only darkness thrives. There is no calm, as the haunting faces and images of the day’s horrors flicker through my memory. Sleep won’t come.
1) Thick blue drapes cover the window, tinting the morning sunlight with shades of shadow, creating a moratorium gloom throughout the room. Midnight coverlets drawn across our bodies as we cling together, not for warmth or safety, but for comfort. Silk skin and liquid touch, our arms are locked fiercely to each other just as our lives are locked away from the space outside this room. His heartbeat reverberates through his touch, his breath, his kiss. His flesh is my flesh, his touch is my touch. This dream is mine…
And then I awake, cold and alone in a darkened room.
2) The sounds of sleeplessness thunder through the echoing blackness. The rustling of bedclothes, the heavy breaths of nightmare conquests, the soft wimpering as the painful day slides away into the too-short night. The glowing eyes of the digital clock are masked with thick black tape. The windows are covered with dark linen, nailed into the wooden frames to keep the darkness in as well as to keep the light out. Only darkness lives in this room, only darkness thrives. There is no calm, as the haunting faces and images of the day’s horrors flicker through my memory. Sleep won’t come.