she silently spoke a sheltered whisper
"you can't turn black into white, but you
can deal with gray any way you like"
and those words struck me with the
power of a lightning bolt, exposing my soul like an uncovered
and as the sun opens up its arms,
a chilling thought crept into my mind
"What if it’s a trick? What if she just whispered sweet nothings
to appease my heart's fear?" the fear that knows the combination to my safe. the fear that only comes when I'm not prepared.
as arrows of indecision penetrate every confident corner
of my mind, calmness goes up on trial - crashes in a tidal wave of desolation, gasping for choked breaths
and as majestic ropes slyly tighten, my hallowed veins constrict this fear, building up into kinetic mass of magma
which never erupts.
About the Author
NATE SUMISLASKI is a graduate of the University of Connecticut.
His work has previously been published in The Slag Review. He has self published three collections of poetry, including Ethereal Madness and Escaping the Memory.
You can also find him here: Twitter