M.K. Lee's Blog: Telling Tales, page 107

When

When the floorboards creak he freezes, tells his heart to cease its racing, reminds himself it’s an old house, with an old soul. Cracks and creaks are nothing but to be expected.

When the sigh breezes over his neck he cuts off the gasp that fires unchecked from his lips. Blames it on an open window, a cracked pane, a door ajar downstairs.

When the brush of an invisible hand skirts along his arm leaving goosebumps in his wake, he ceases fooling himself. Stumbles forward toward the doorway, holds his breath along...

The Clamps

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In a post-Apocalyptic London exists a Workhouse for all of those who have nowhere else to go, where services are exchanged for shelter. There’s nowhere safer: even the beds have their own special form of security. Ask the children. They have a story to tell.

It was the kind of story that kept you pinned down in terror and the younger children believed in full fear, while the older boasted of their bravado and pretended they had no fear at all.

The beds strewn with blood and tell-tale yellow staining...

You Are

You say broken.
But I say, fractured, and lovingly restored
With delicate fingers and inner strength that is all yours.

You say, shattered.
But I say, reborn, from pain and loss
Into someone who protects others at all and any cost.

You say, hopeless.
But I say, you are hope. You are the focus that keeps us all going.
You are the light that never fades, and the puzzle worth knowing.

You are so much more than you allow yourself to be.

Roswell New Mexico Poetry

Okay I think my obsession with writing Roswell New Mexico/Malex poetry might be done for now; here they are all in one place

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Limitless

*clears throat* …more Roswell things!

This, we, are limitless. 
Immeasurable by anything mathematical, magical, or militant,
We fit.
My heart is your heart, 
And my soul slipping into yours with every breath,
Whether taken together or with an ocean between us.

It's funny really, how two broken things with no roots,
Shaky foundations, and limbs we cannot lean on
Find something in one another
That makes us belong; 
In who else could we ever have a home?

So you, my everything,
You'll have to learn to lean for a little while.
Take the time you need to be strong again,
Using me as your pillar.
And together, we can grow stronger,
Become more whole.
After all, 
Don't we already complete each other,
Like nobody else can?

This Land

MORE Roswell-inspired poetry; I don’t know what’s happening here, truly I don’t!

In this barren landscape how can anything grow,

When you’re out in the world in a place I don’t know,

Where fire rains down on you and gunshots ring out,

When you could be in danger I can do nothing about?

This land is infertile and bland with you gone.

It’s been a place for us to exist, never to belong.

The sun is bright, burning, harsh in your absence,

Yet every day I grow colder because of our distance.

This wilderness is empty, lifeless without you here,

Though our...

Whatever Comes First

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Matthew isn’t looking for a relationship. Ask him, and he’ll say it’s because between work and studying there’s just no time. Ask his best friend, Sarah, and the story is a little different and involves a failed relationship that left him raw. 

Enter Joel, a childhood friend of Sarah’s recently back in the area. He’s not looking for love, either, but he’s not averse to the idea of a little fun. Uncomplicated and on the same page: what could possibly go wrong?

Buy Whatever Comes First.

Our

Old floorboards creak under our cold, bare feet,
Heat leached away with the setting of sun,
Slumber calls but we do not want to listen
When there’s much that’s still left to be done…

Read the rest in Shades Of Me 

Whatever Comes First

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Matthew isn’t looking for a relationship. Ask him, and he’ll say it’s because between work and studying there’s just no time. Ask his best friend, Sarah, and the story is a little different and involves a failed relationship that left him raw. 

Enter Joel, a childhood friend of Sarah’s recently back in the area. He’s not looking for love, either, but he’s not averse to the idea of a little fun. Uncomplicated and on the same page: what could possibly go wrong?

Buy Whatever Comes First.

Baggage

This room is bare now. The stripped bedding lays at the foot of the bed, the curtains sit drawn back into their ties, and the thick pine wardrobe looms ominously as though it will topple at any moment.

My luggage is packed and out in the hallway, and the tied-up bin bag waits to be deposited in the refuse bin at the end of the gravel drive.

I sigh, and reach my hand down to the baggage at my feet.

“What are you doing with that?” you say, accusation in your voice.

I feel my throat seize up against the words that want...