she painted the ocean with salty regret, a brush made of fingerbone and eyelashes, framed with the gilded cage in which her heart always slept
as she sat alone on the couch the waters poured down her cheeks, a torrent of emotional discharge sweeping across the dark wood of the floor to pull her under
the waves of sorrow slapping the shore of her tortured soul, a waking nightmare from which no alarm can wake her, no amount of joy can penetrate
the currrents wash away the remnants of yesterday, leaving a faint foam of blood red denial to crest the rocky seas of fractured smiles among the corpse lights
Mike's Manic Word Depot 
A melancholy masterpiece.
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thank you Dana. i asked a friend for prompts and got three pictures. this one really resonated with me.
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Prompts from those that know us often inspire the best of us.
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I’ve never used pics before. It was a neat avenue to experiment on
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I hope you continue to explore it.
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💚
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