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(Source: brittanymarkert.viewbook.com)
Portrait of Tonya.
Desire, like the dim
lit moon, subdued,
as dusk, still waning.
aching as the clock’s
tic taunts from behind
the glass pane, the
pendulum, encased
in rosewood, smooth as two
backs might embrace
behind closed doors,
locked in-rooms, in-
hales, exaltations.
both tainted, cravings,
creaked through door,
let loose into midnight’s
mystery, the obsidian hue.
words by Pieter
to writers and creatives alike, submit your 100-word story using my image as the prompt,
the editor’s pick will be featured in the magazine next month.
best of luck!
x
(Source: in-rooms.com)