April 2023 - top of the rocks, top of the rail

[Kaje]

We had a tie this month for prompt pictures, so I'm going to post both of them, and you can choose. Any length from Haiku to novel, just keep it YA and LGBTQ.



and/or

[K.S.]

The cold light of winter is trapped in the city
Your light, willingly sacrificed, offering a holiday glow
Soon life will blossom and everyone will sing
While I silently watch, waiting as everyone passes me by
Waiting for you to be reborn
Waiting for you to return
Allowing me to return to you
The keeper of my heart.

[Kaje]

K.S. wrote: "The cold light of winter is trapped in the city
Your light, willingly sacrificed, offering a holiday glow
Soon life will blossom and everyone will sing
While I silently watch, waiting as everyone p..."

Ooh, that's subtle and interesting. Thank you.

[K.S.]

You're welcome and thank you!

[Kaje]

Resistance

That white city across the water looks pretty, doesn't it? All clean and bright. From a distance, you'd never know how dark it can be in the shadows.

Keeping everything uniform and perfect for the tourists means hammering down any nail that stands out or won't bend, with a ruthless hammer.

Me? I've never been good at bending.

You? You're the good boy, the quiet one. You nod and go along and smile, and no one around you knows how you slip away in the night and do your own thing.

Us? This was risky.

Sneaking a ride to the mainland is the easy part. We're far from the first teens to do it. Hell, grabbing your date and taking that one-night trip out of white perfectsville is practically a rite of passage around prom time.

Most kids find a room in a cheap hotel, one of many that line the highway over here. They buy rotgut booze, have sex, and sneak on back, feeling like rebels. Then slowly, they "grow up" and sink into the "expected" and "understood" till that trip is a faded memory, like the time they spilled jam, or broke their mother's vase.

You and me? We're not going back. "Perfect" has no room for us.

So I'm going to kiss you, right here in plain sight. I hope someone's looking, from the observation deck over there. I hope they all know.

But really, it doesn't matter. In ten minutes, we'll grab our backpacks and be gone. I know it'll be hard out here without the safety net, but compared to the illusion of perfect that wanted to squeeze the life out of us, and never let us touch? Hell, it's gonna be great.