Friday, September 13, 2013


She likes to feel the slow swell of freedom from the source.
Flooding from the spout to drown the day, hot vapors swirl overhead, clinging to quiet lips and settling into ghostly shadows on the glass. Flushed thighs demarcate a vulnerable shade of pink and she slips her toes beneath the tumbling heat

thankful to be alone.

Hooded eyes are cloaked with careless smudges of this morning's mascara but she does not bother. Legs slide against one another, smiling because they are smooth. Fitzgerald propped on the seat (desperate to be devoured) - but languid arms are heavy.

And when this rescue burns cold, it is cast into a scientific spiral of pity and lavender, recklessly slurping and sucking as she stands - it is gone. Saturated foot prints soaking into the hardwood prove that this sort of solitude is fleeting.


  1. This is amazing. Perfect. As someone who lives in their bathtub, this sounds exactly like me, right down to Fitzgerald being in the room with me. Your words are astoundingly great.

    Tightrope to the Sun

  2. "Saturated foot prints soaking into the hardwood prove that this sort of solitude is fleeting."

    I do kinda miss reading you on the regular, cuz that's good stuff, as always. Good to see you, Lulu.

  3. 'Scuse me. Gotta go find my socks. As usual, you have knocked them off :p


  4. LuLu once again your words are profound and I am SO glad you are back to writing again... I have truly missed you girl... Thank you for your lovely comment on my blog

  5. Beautiful writing lovely!


  6. solitude is often fleeting. Real solitude, I mean. The concept of it is quite a contradiction, because in a way, we are always alone. And yet, we are never alone. I don't know which is better/worse...? xxxx

  7. I always prefer being alone when it matters, I only miss people when they're not around.


  8. your words are wonderful. you can put things into words that i can't. i've been reading for awhile and i just want you to know that i really love your words.