Prose Poetry

My body is acting out of instinct.
Feet are carrying me by themselves,
I feel like I’m floating.
Everything around me seems unreal,
the warmth of the sun on my skin,
blinding reflection of sunlight all around me.
A rush of breeze brings me to reality,
as cold caresses my cheek.
I’m taking the phone out,
quickly checking for a sign of little red dots,
scrolling down then up, deciding where I will start.

It’s a beautiful sunny day, I caught that much with the corner of my eye, but here and now I’m actually stealing time. Time that I…

Prose poetry

As it falls on paper
it creates magic,
trace read out loud
becomes alive.
The ink.

Black, blue or red - these are the colours I have before my eyes as I turn the thought of ink around in my mind and in my heart. Can I feel it, the weight of ink? Letters put on paper come to mind - curved or angled, pointy or soft. Words that sting or caress the soul. …