M.K. Lee's Blog: Telling Tales, page 108
November 5, 2019
Cosmic
Roswell New Mexico/Malex poetry, part 2!
The want I feel for you is something ethereal, visceral, infinite,
The ache when I can’t have you, deep in my core, infinite.
There is a never-ending caress of desert sand across my skin
From us entwined together, our stain on one another intimate, infinite.
I know no completion other than you in me, around me,
No other but you whose pleasure sings with my own; infinite.
Our wars are waged between sheets, against walls, on every surface;
Defeat admitted with every groan we elicit, infinite.
Alex, you are mine; in the sand at our f...
A Thousand Deaths
*clears throat* any Roswell, New Mexico fans out there? Malex fans specifically? Then, this might look familiar!
It kills me when you say you won’t ever look away,
When my heart knows a darkness I can’t ever let you see.
Still, I’d die a thousand deaths if you’d just ask me to stay.
So many things were broken, stolen from you on that day,
And I don’t honestly know how you could ever forgive me.
It kills me when you say you won’t ever look away.
I want to be the kind of man who can keep demons at bay,
Yet I am your demon. Caging you with my family legacy.
Still, I’d...
November 4, 2019
Snapping
He’s snapping. He’s snapping at Jordan, and he knows he’s snapping at Jordan, and worst of all, he knows exactly why he’s doing it. He knows what’s set him off doing it, like he’s known every other time it’s happened in the past.
But nothing. Not one part of it. None of this is in any way Jordan’s fault.
Joe’s internal, repetitive monologue lurches between you’re so obvious any idiot can see, and it’s all your fault anyway, and worst of all, what if this is it this time, at breakneck speed. He’s barely able to function for the...
NaNo2019
It’s that time of the year again!
After planning – as much as I ever planning any writing – a story from scratch to write this month, two days before NaNo started I lost all interest. Which is typical for me. So I went rummaging through my many WIP folders and found a (hopefully) fun thing to work on instead. Three days in and it’s still happening; as of today I’ve written 7061 for NaNo. I hope this streak continues!
November 3, 2019
Hold the floor
So you’re holding the floor with your
Audience in rapture.
A score’s breath held, anticipating more.
Your words set a springing trap
And those weak-willed are captured,
While those with opinions fall through the gaps,
Down which your derision pours.
The skill of weaving tales
Is not one that you’ve mastered,
Your train of poison derailed
As wheels separate from track,
Cruel words sparking, lies paving way for disaster,
As the cables...
November 1, 2019
Stark
In the middle of the night, I will find you,
And maybe along the way, I’ll find myself.
It has never been my intention to blind you
Into mistaking this for anything else.
In the harshest sunlight, shining starkly,
Irradiating everything within its touch,
Would it be an imposition for you to think of me,
Or is such courtesy an inconvenience too much?
October 31, 2019
Disposable
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You thought I was disposable.
Monday morning. The first full week after the Christmas and New Year break, you late for work like every other driver out there, annoyed that other people might also have somewhere to go.
Me, also late for work, with probably the same Monday blues and concerns about the working day ahead as you do on this freezing, dark, dreary morning.
Your job, probably laden with responsibilities the same as mine.
Probably.
Such a dismissive word.
When you sped off early at the green light, you probably didn’t spare...
The Building
This building is old. It has worn many identities, been both home and safe haven, yet also a horror for some of its occupants. There have been fights, failings, fortunes, and famines. Laughter, love, and so much life. But there has also been death, and despair, the everyday demands of what it is to be living. The building has seen so much that it is almost as though the building lives itself.
Some people remain with the building. Walk its halls, peer out its windows, long after they have lived t...
Turn Around
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You can feel his stare on the back of your neck.
He’s not in the same room as you, he’s not even inside the house. But you know with full certainty that if you turn from the kitchen counter, away from the overripe tomatoes you are chopping and towards the full glass doors that form the only barrier between you and him, he will be there, watching. His eyes will flit from your face, down to the sharp knife in your hand as the tomato juice drips from its point, pooling and splashing onto the slate t...
Scurrying
The scurrying sound starts on a cold Sunday evening, when she’s comfortably slouched on the sofa and on a second glass of wine. Her gaze lifts to the ceiling unworried; this is a top floor flat with the only thing above it an unused attic. They get the occasional bird, and bat, and who knows what other wildlife half the time.
She continues to watch the ceiling as the burrowing sound continues, picturing a Labrador happily digging a hole in the park at the bottom of the road. She knows it’s probabl...
