Lying on the sofa with reruns of Family Feud and Wheel of Fortune for her company, she waited for sleep to embalm her. She no longer dreamed of him. Those nightmares were now locked away in an unused master bedroom, behind a firmly closed door, under an ink-black midnight sky.
Arlene writes poetry, flash fiction and song lyrics. More of her work may be found @ I am not a silent Poet, Tuck Magazine, Little Rose Magazine, London Grip, The Open Mouse and Literary Heist.
Sidewalks have no desires
as do streets, no hidden agendas,
no future place they long
to go and see. Sidewalks are content
with being still and listening to the stories
that shoes and paws beat
into their skin day after day. Sidewalks
have no other place to be but here.
Arlene writes poetry, song lyrics, and flash fiction. She’s working hard on a romance poem about dead birds and their last confessions at present.
We speak in code. Fake smiles
accentuate our encryption
as we avoid truthful confessions.
Lips spread wide
over camouflaged terms
as tongues stutter and tangle
without grace.
The look in your eyes forces me into
deeper deciphering.
We calculate our positions and
plot our next move.
We speak in code.
Arlene is a novice writer who enjoys writing flash fiction and poetry.