TLT Week 100: sweet deceit

tltweek100
Photo Prompt by Manu Sanchez

safer with guns
is the lie they tell to ensure that your manufactured saccharine happiness
remains wholly undisturbed


Three Line Tales, Week One Hundred

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The Witching Hour

Legend warns of the Witching Hour
that unholy span of time
of deepest darkness
approaching daylight
when the inexplicable occurs
as the veil between opposing worlds wears thin
and our nightmares become the night
passing chills indicate unseen presence
the earth sighs during deathly silence
fear is bred from belief
believe it or not
this is when magic happens

on the other side of the street

on the other side of the street
there is no pride, only humility
the kind that strips her of dignity
so naked
she bears her life on the cold, dirty pavement
every possession
for everyone to see
worth measured by hasty, shame-filled glances of passers-by

on the other side of the street
there is no humility, only pride
the kind that hastens his pace
so fast
he walks with his head held high
every possession
for everyone to see
worth measured by the change he refuses to part with

from where I stand
the only separation between the two
is an extended hand

The Beast

the beast that dwells within us all
chained inside against cerebral wall
it claws at flesh and bares its teeth
simply waiting for release

the voice that whispers, never speaks
reminds us when it’s time to feed
this primal hunger gnaws and lusts
defies the lies of social construct

with gruesome form and haunting eyes
it’s starving to be pacified
to acquiesce is not defeat
but awareness of where fear breeds

it bumps and rattles, and shakes our core
perpetually yearning for something more
cannot be broken, silenced, or tamed
only placated where hope remains

caution release, for the thin line it walks
borders the entrance to Pandora’s box
to ignore the yearning could incite the unthinkable
as humanity rests just above hell’s pinnacle

this is the beast that dwells within

that struggles for power amidst the din

that awakens to reality, paper thin

startling truth of ephemeral being ‘neath corporeal skin

of returning to a place we’ve already been

the weight of sagacity – in ending where we begin

anatomy of you

I see you
the eyes of your soul
the smile in your eyes
the light in your smile
lightly tracing
over
every inch of you
every
soft
curvature of skin
skin to skin
interlaced fingers
hand to hold
lips to back
the small of your back
the back of your neck
every bump and scar
crease and fold

I have memorized them all

I know you
familiar warmth
gravitational pull
comfortable silence
the laugh
the whisper
the promise
the voice that calls me home