pieces of light…waking

I’ve been tinkering around recently with the idea of writing words just to write them…words just for myself because I like them and they make me happy. I’ve been calling this idea “Pieces of Light” in my head. I thought I’d share the first piece I wrote as part of this very personal project because I haven’t shared new or completed words in quite some time.

Walter Crane

Crane, Walter. The Bluebeard Picture Book. London: George Routledge and Sons, 1875.



His kiss woke her.
Somehow she knew she was asleep. She drifted in the current—breathing in, breathing out—never changing. The world moved around her.

His kiss woke her.
Maybe it wasn’t his kiss that brought her out of that deep, dreamless nothing, but the sound of her name on his lips right before they pressed into hers.
The taste of it—the vibration of her name—rolling off his tongue and whispering against her cool, untouched lips.

His kiss woke her.
The waking was painful. It was sharp, startling. The light of outside life pierced eyes that had seen only dark. The noises, voices, and laughter were uncomfortable; too loud. For a moment she wished to be asleep again.

His kiss woke her.
Again and again. Each kiss reviving her a little more until her eyes adjusted to the light and her ears to the laughter. Until she could kiss him back and whisper the name of her love against his lips.

His kiss woke her.

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