Activities of Timothy Pierce

When the first light spills across the horizon, the sky ignites in streaks of rose and gold, clouds burn with molten edges, trembling awake, while shadows retreat, whispering their last secrets, softened by the sweetness of morning air I cannot name.

The sky blushes with wonder, as night surrenders to the blaze of day.Shadows stretch long across my skin, reluctant to fade, clinging like old wounds that refuse to close, reminding me of all I have endured.
...

As the day draws near, I think of what I told herhow she finds light where I bury my shadows.I wonder what hands have traced my scars, what small mercies touched the places I hide.She looks at me and calls my ruin potential; I, broken and unfinished, am revealed.

I slam my fist into a door, a cruel punctuation, then lie there asking why she stays, why she sees a lantern in the hollow of my dark.Light filters through the very black I carry; we wander the woods of our mistakes, searching for a fate not bound to exile.
...

As the day draws near, I think of what I told herhow she finds light where I bury my shadows.I wonder what hands have traced my scars, what small mercies touched the places I hide.She looks at me and calls my ruin potential; I, broken and unfinished, am revealed.

I slam my fist into a door, a cruel punctuation, then lie there asking why she stays, why she sees a lantern in the hollow of my dark.Light filters through the very black I carry; we wander the woods of our mistakes, searching for a fate not bound to exile.
...