M.K. Lee's Blog: Telling Tales, page 57

To The Person

To the person who thinks they know my songs by heart:
You’re a fool. You couldn’t tell a bridge from a chorus, for a start.
To the person who thinks they know my buttons to push;
Wrong sequence entered. Did you take your lessons from a fabled flaming bush?
To the person who thinks they give me reason to live,
You think I’m blind to your distancing? Keep going. I’ve no more time to give.
To the person that I am writing these words to:
If there’s one thing I don’t need in my world, it’s you.

...

From Coffee Shop Corners

People watching might be George’s favourite way to spend his time. Why wouldn’t he lose himself in dreaming up the loves and lives of other people to escape the mess that is his own? From this new favourite cafe corner, in the new town he’s made his home, George makes up backstories for each of the baristas. And as they serve coffee, George imagines happily ever afters for their waiting customers. But when a surprise email forces him to relive the heartache he’s running from, George can think...

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...

Afterthought

The safety measures were an afterthought. the product of someone with an overactive imagination and not a lot of sense. Except for this, apparently. Because when the temperature reached critical, the sensors shorted out; this back up switch indicating no readings were being taken, really, truly saved lives.

Of course, all credit went to the engineers, not the random observation by the company’s graphic designer. He went back to his cubicle after the simulation clutching his cup of tepid coffe...

Diary Drabble: Afterthought

© M K Lee

Ferns

Fronds feather out green
Spread roots back through the eons
Jurassic carpet

© M K Lee

Perspective

From this hilltop the city is a sea of fairylights, with a distant lullaby of soothing sounds set to lull even the most restless soul to sleep. For all the calamity seen here, there is calmness. Pockets of hope and pieces of sanctuary, strewn across a velvety backdrop, twinkling up like diamond facets, and like shining sequins, like smiles of delight when caught just in the right light. The right light makes all the difference, shifting monochrome to technicolour, and mournful tones to joyfu...

Elements

Atoms, elements, and compounds; this is the stuff we are made of,
The lifeforce Lego
That sticks together and rearranges in all manner of ways.
We are literal stardust;
The skin that sheds from our bodies is comprised of the same stuff
That makes up those twinkling points in the sky—
That we now know are dead to us,
And we see them only through the miracle of light.
Can you imagine an element, out there in the cosmos, minding its own,
Then becoming part of a gas cloud on Venus, or a whirl of dust on Mars...

Voice

So how am I supposed to tell the difference
Between the You stood before me,
And the You that’s in my head?
The one in here is cruel, and taunting,
Showing me the Not Me, the Instead,
The You’re Not Good Enough.
The fears that resonate most true.
Why does the voice that hates me most
Have to be the embodiment of you?

© M K Lee

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