Green

I am blue. Cool, calm, analytical. The abysmal depths of the deep. Lonely, but not necessarily alone. The fish gliding by my feet seem to taunt me as they circle around my toes. They know that I cannot see; they know that I can but feel the motion of them swimming along, passing me by. They know.

Chained to the bottomless ocean floor, all I can do is wait. For what, I am uncertain. I have yearned so long that I can no longer remember what time is. Yet this faith, the faith of the unknown, is all I have left. So I wait on.

When that hand reaches down, my eyes wince at the blinding light. Yellow. I can see now. Or perhaps my eyes have simply be closed all this time.

And as our fingers interlock, the only thing that I am able to make out is

Green.

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Mr. Lawyer

The second the heel of his shoe came in contact with the concrete in a resounding click, all eyes flew to catch a glimpse of him.

The man had anticipated this. He stood out among the crowd like a gold coin would in a pile of drab, lackluster pennies. While the women around him wore faded, orange jumpsuits, he was adorned in a three piece suit that was the color of the stormy clouds hanging ominously in the sky. While their bare, grimy feet remained unsheltered to the harsh elements, his were encased in expensive dark leather. And while their faces exhibited a distrustful glower, his held a professional smile.

It was fortunate for the man that their had been cell bars between him and the females, or he might find himself in a morgue by the end of the day.

An elderly woman with a golden badge perched on her shoulder hobbled over to him.

“Are you Michelle Anderson’s attorney?”
The man did not even bother verbally responding to her inquiry. Instead, he simply flashed the tiny emblem pinned to his collar. The guard, noting the set of scales etched into the metal, unlocked the fortified door into the interrogation room. As the man entered, he swore her heard the woman mumbling under her raspy breath, though he could only catch the words “audacity” and “whippersnapper”.

As he entered the room composed of four stony slabs of concrete, he heard a perpetual, mechanical ticking. Glancing up at the wall, he noticed that the analog clock on the wall displayed the time 6:30 PM. Normally, when the hands of the clock were in this position, he would be setting the table, greedily awaiting his wife’s cooking.

It was a shame he had to be here when he could be at home with her, but it would be over soon enough.

The man then turned to the woman sitting at the table, eyes flickering to the shiny cuffs on her wrists, connecting her to the table.

Pasty skin framed by wrinkles and furious brown eyes circled by dark rings, she held the atmosphere of a caged predator who was itching for the chance to dig her claws into fresh meat. The way she analyzed his every move with a distasteful glower plastered on her face made him think that he was her next prey.

Though the man did not tremble at this thought, nor did his masterful mask falter. He slid with ease into the chair, noting the way the table wobbled on the shortest leg as he placed his briefcase on the unsteady surface.

“Hello, Mrs. Anderson. Your father had contacted me and requested for me to represent you in court.” He began, his cheery voice not missing a beat as he opened his briefcase and fiddled with its contents. “Now, what were your charges again? Second-degree murder?

“Voluntary manslaughter.”

The man gave an apologetic smile. “Thats right; it slipped my memory. I apologize for my blunder.”

The woman ignored his polite attempts to converse. “Just get me out of this mess.”

He pulled out a ream of pristine, white paper with her name printed at the top in bolded, black letters.

“Of course, of course, Mrs. Anderson, but I do need to know the circumstances around the crime. I have skimmed through the case files, but,” The lawyer leaned in, resting his chin on his palm.

“I would rather hear the details from you.”

“Well, that sucks for you, Mr. Lawyer,” Michelle sneered, as if she could not think of something more horrendous or slanderous than calling someone an attorney. “Because I just can’t seem to remember.”

The man appeared outwardly unfazed by the prisoner’s ill-mannered comment.

“Well then, I’ll just have to jog your memory, will I not?”

His eyes began skimming through the case files.

“At 6:00 A. M. on a Sunday, a thirty-five year old woman was killed in her apartment building. From the autopsy report, the forensic scientists at the precinct determined that it was blunt trauma from the back of the head that ended her life. I believe the woman name was Katherine? Katrina?”

“Katerina.”

“Oh, yes. I remember now. Katerina Goodman. I believe in the report it stated that she was recently married?”

The woman rolled her eyes. “Why should I care?”

The man’s demeanor faltered slightly. “Well it always sad when something like‒”

Michelle glared at him.

“Look here Mr. Lawyer. You are supposed to be worrying about me, defending me, not some dead tramp. Got it?

The lawyer’s smile returned, but it seemed almost forced now.

“Yes, of course. I apologize, Mrs. Anderson.”

Michelle scoffed. “How many more question do you got?”

“Just one more, Mrs. Anderson.”

She let out a weary sigh. “Just get on with it.”

“Did you murder Katerina Goodman?”

Michelle facial expression did not change. “I don’t feel like telling you that.”

“Mrs. Anderson, I know this must be difficult for you, but I need for you to tell me the truth. No matter how you respond, I give you my most sincere word that I will be with you in court. So I will repeat my question: Did you murder Katerina Goodman?”

Now, Michelle Anderson has never been a particularly trusting person. She did not trust her father, her mother, her sister. No one. But there was something in the way the lawyer spoke that compelled her to spill everything to him.

But she didn’t. Or at least, not all the gritty details.

“Yes.”

At that’s where everying thing changed.

The warmth in the man’s face went cold and the friendliness went hostile.

“That’s all I needed to hear.”

Opening his briefcase, the lawyer pulled out a small, black device.

It was a recorder.

Michelle felt the rage burning up in her as he hit a button, turning off the machine.

“You were recording this?”

The man did bother responding as he slipped the recorder back into his case and swiftly made for the door.

“Wait, wait! What are you doing?”

The man did not even bother turning around. “Isn’t it obvious? I’m going to present this to the police.”

“But you promised. You promised that you would defend me! You promised that you would get me a ‘not guilty’ verdict!”

“I remember no such thing. I said that I would stand by you in court. And I will. On the witness stand.”

The woman felt her body tremble in a mixture of fury and fear. “You’re a liar, Mr. Lawyer. A terrible, filthy liar!”

This time, when the man responded, he whipped around to face her.

“I would rather be branded a liar rather than a defender of a cold-blooded killer.”

Michelle recoiled. There was no love in his eyes; only pure hatred.

The following words passed through her lips without her mind’s consent.

“I trusted you, Mr. Lawyer, so why? Why would you do this?”

The man’s professional smile returned, but, rather than comforting her, it sent chills down Michelle’s spine.

“Mr. Lawyer? Oh, how rude of me! I never introduced myself, did I?”

He extended his hand spitefully, as if taunting her and her restrictions. She had not noticed it before, but there was a gold band resting on his left ring finger.

“My name is Randy Goodman. Pleased to make your acquaintance.”

Man of the Wind

My first kiss was with a man of the wind
Swain swaying with my soul in a sweet sensation of serenity
My ears caressed by the warmth of his breath
The heart’s emotions overriding the mind’s rationality
And his lips of air sweep against mine
With the force of hurricanes spiraling in the sky

Above me clouds speckled the sky
Below me was the wind
And in between fluttered this love of mine
Yet it was a deceptive illusion, this serenity
Because I loved with my heart’s emotions rather than my mind’s rationality
And my ears could not perceive the words under his breath

Hitched in my throat rested my breath
Frantically searching for his eyes amidst the misty sky
The thunder striking my senses, scattering rationality
Where had he gone to, this man of the wind,
And could we not seek together for serenity?
This love, was it only mine?

Our hearts had intertwined, that how he stole mine
Fabricating fantasies in a single breath
His temper created tempest rather than serenity
And I, as fools often do in love, could not see beyond the serenity
Unable to see beyond the misty veil of delusions, I was swept into the sky
The hole where my heart could not deny the passage of bitter winds
“Yet are you not to shoulder partial blame?” inquires rationality

Because Love is not just blinded infatuation; it requires rationality
He lead me down a misguided path, but I walked there with these feet of mine
Intoxicated by the illusion of independence, I forget that he is the wind
He is the breeze beneath my wings; my movement is dictated by his breath
And, at his impulsive inclination I could be dropped from the sky
The sweet scent of slaughter becoming my serenity

Love is a balance of shambles and serenity
A puzzle in which you try and fit emotions into rationality
Highs that can send you skyrocketing into the sky
Contrasting lows damning this fragility of mine
And it last until death do you part when you release of your final breath
This is love; steel trying to conform to the whims of the wind

The tension building between us, it can never truly be mine
It can only be shared like two lungs share a breath
This is why he vanished, this man of the wind

Raining

Plip, plop; the sky must be crying
Lip trembling in an attempt to stay bright
Whip up those clouds to be radiant and airy
Slip and you ruin everyone else’s delight

Rain pouring from the blacken firmament above
“Restrain your selfish sorrows,” chants the sky
Pain never goes unnoticed by the mother below her
Terrain mutters to the heavens, “Sometimes it’s okay to cry.”

Remorseful Determination

Youth is but the invisible hand of a desperate lover
Desperately attempting to grasp our hand in intertwine our fingers together
Bitterly smiling as the ghost of their hand wisps through yours
Distant eyes gazing into a world where this love could be true
Persisting against the ever flowing river of time, they reach for your hand
Affirming the wretched reality by vainly reaching out again and again
Corporeal Romeo and his ethereal Juliet
Torn seams ripping the fabric of reality
Which cloaked their bared back from the frigid bite of winter
Watching from a distance, prowling closer in the cover of shadows
The blade of crescent moons glinting ominously under the stars
Exchanging the misty hand of Time with his own skeletal one
Directing him elsewhere down the winding staircases that lead to his domain
Efficiently, despite the slight twinge of remorse echoing in his hollow chest
For perplexing Mortality had no heart, yet it had a mind
And Time’s trembling knees fell to the ground, unable to move


Hello! I just wanted to mention something about this poem. Although this may seem like a free verse poem, it is in fact a structured poem.  If you take the first letter in the first line, the second letter in the second line, the third letter in the third line, and so on, it will spell out a secret line. When counting, do not include anything other than the letters, i.e. spaces and apostrophes. Thank you so much for reading my writing. It really means everything to me, more than I can put into words, and I’m a writer. If you have any comments or critiques, please do not hesitate to leave them!

Eggplant

“What do you mean you’re cutting me off!?”

An outraged roar echoed through the living room as a man hastily jumped to his feet. He was either so absorbed in his anger that he did not notice, or so absorbed in his anger that he did not care, but as he rose, he had knocked over a photo of a man offering a elegant golden band to a woman overwhelmed with joyful tears, causing a jagged crack to abruptly split the couple apart.

Jacqueline cautiously placed her delicate hand over his, and he could feel her hand trembling like a sole leaf in a hurricane of horror.

“Kale, sweetheart, I know how hard it will be to quit, but we can’t afford to keep doing this anymore. If you’ll just consider rehab, I know that‒‒”

Kale let out a cacophonous wail as her forcibly thrusted Jacqueline away from him, not even sparing a glance as she let out a yelp of pain.

“No, no! You can’t do this to me, Jacqueline! You can’t, you can’t, you can’t!”

His eyes, filled with the hysterics of addiction and outlined with the dark rings of insomnia, captured hers as her seized her by her shoulders and hauled her to her feet.

“Honey, baby, you can’t do this to me!”

“Kale, you’re hurting me. Please stop.”

“Please, baby, don’t do this to me! You can’t do this to me.”

Kale’s unrelenting pleads consisting of the words “Can’t,” “Don’t,” and “Baby” slurred together in a dissonance of despair as his grip on her loosened somewhat, exposing dark, purple discoloration on her gaunt skin, dubiously in the shape of a handprint.

“Kale…” The discordant uproar was silenced by her words, trailing off with on a tender, harmonious note.

“Kale, we really can’t do this anymore. Look at the state were living in! Shambles of what could have been and still could be a brilliant life. We just need to pick the pieces up together. After all…” She inhaled a breath of courage before continuing. “We want the best for our little Junior, right?”

The silence that hung in the air threatened to suffocate her. Her knees trembled more than before and threatened to collapse under the constant pounding of her heart beat.

“You’re pregnant?

Her throat was too parched to respond, so instead she gave a slight nod of her head.

“I don’t understand why that means I have to quit.”

It took a long time before the meaning of his words finally registered in her mind.

“What do you mean you don’t understand?” She croaked, forcing the words through her constricted throat.

“I shouldn’t have to stop smoking just because you’re having a child.”

Something inside of Jacqueline snapped. She wasn’t sure what it was, desperation, hormones, parental instincts. Maybe a combination of a three. Nevertheless, nothing at that moment could stop the tsunami of thoughts from flooding out of her mouth.

“This isn’t just my child! This is our child; this is your child! Does that not mean anything to you? We should be discussing names or education plans now, not about your addiction! I know you had a rocky start with awful parents, Kale. We both did. But this is a chance to succeed where our parents failed. Don’t you want to give this child an opportunity, a chance?

“Of course I do! But that doesn’t mean—”

“Yes it does, Kale! It means you have to quit! I’m not going to support your habit anymore!”

Bang

Kale’s fingers trembled around the trigger of the gun as Jacqueline’s, and her unborn child’s, lifeless body unceremoniously hit the floor. Since the floorboards were rotten and long since warped, all of her blood pooled into a vicious crimson puddle and they splashed all over his boots as her walked over to the corpse. His fingers still trembled was he searched her person, though it was neither from remorse or despair. They trembled out of relief. For finally, finally, he would be able to get his fix: eggplant.