Heavy hearts
and ruined days
Sunlight sparkles
shadowed by haze
And yet in-between
is a glimmer of gold
A future so bright
the perfect secret untold
Layers of pristine petals
align in an exquisite array
Carpeting our path
showing us the way
Guiding our footsteps
providing us with hope
A gentle reminder
helping us to cope
© 2022 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/pink-rose-papillon-petals-in-water-3580202/
Her hair smelled of lavender,
and her skin was velvety smooth,
and I’d wanted to bask in her loveliness
as she stirred neath the purplish moon.
But soon, the luminosity faded,
and her body grew cold and gray,
and I cried for never being able to tell her
all the things I’d wanted to say.
© 2022 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/window-wood-frame-fantasy-full-moon-4670739/
Silent shelved hopes
and bitter tears;
lifeless and disfigured
by mascara smears.
With gloom-wrapped shoulders,
she reaches out a hand,
but the majority pass by her,
and few can understand.
So she sits in stilled anguish,
waiting for a promising sign,
but the world is relentless
and only seeks to undermine.
She realizes she’s a burden,
another rift in society.
And so she sits and languishes
for all she’ll never be.
© 2021 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/homeless-beggar-woman-poverty-cry-3584319/
Writing prompt: A bottle of hope sat on the shelf
Detach and draw away
Under the covers
Cold and gray
Endure the cycle of decay
Bury your head
And fill it with dismay
These are the fallacies
We choose to believe
Filling up our heads
Causing us to grieve
Not even worth repeating
Such thoughts are just defeating
So push through and release
While all your troubles
Beg to increase
Say goodbye to the war
The one that’s hidden
Behind your door
© 2021 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/cold-frost-winter-the-disease-2722002/
Loneliness
it comes in many forms
and I have known them all.
But I think the loneliest times
are when I’m surrounded
by a sea of expressionless faces.
Those empty-eyed, silent beings
always appear to be lost in
mind-numbing, alien-sweeping,
brain-snatching activity.
And if I stare intently enough,
focusing long and hard enough,
I can almost see those denatured
souls being surreptitiously sucked
out of every finger-tapping mortal
who has unknowingly fallen victim
to the technological advances
of our times.
It often leaves me queasy
and fearfully uneasy.
For I must admit that I too,
have fallen subject to the
interest of self-isolation
within the matrix.
Using it as a security blanket
for companionship
because community
no longer exists
within the confines
of my existence.
There are instances
when I do attempt
to turn the world around.
And with desperate breath
I try to disengage
from the illuminated rectangle
nestled nice and neat
between my pale palms.
But then loneliness sneaks in,
finding me once again.
And the screen in my hands
becomes the only life left
to be found.
© 2021 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/portrait-woman-black-and-white-2308893/
Her Writing Haven 