Lydia hugged her new purple sketchbook, pens, pencils, watercolors, and paintbrushes. She jumped and twirled at the thought of making her very own ART. But when she opened the sketchbook, Squiggle ... [+]
Like a waterfall Flowing over the aged jagged rocks It has formed over the years. The rusty gutter succumbs, Freedom. The water gushes from this escape route. I sit here in the quiet Listening to the aquatic drama; The stillness of the dark Against the rush of water; I embrace it. But then the dog snores. I listen for your breath. Not out of concern But to still feel we have a connection Of some sort. Desperation on my part. I sit here in the quiet. Happy in the darkness; I know I can breathe Without you.