The sky inside his glass (Day 548)

He took a sip, 

pretending it was 

the sky swirling 

inside his frosted glass,

the sky that curled and 

folded in upon itself  

trailing a shadowed veil

across the slate-dark sea,

when hand-in-hand they 

traced the wine-stain 

crescent of a bay from bluff 

to point, pausing to dance 

with foam-tipped tickling 

waves, laughing at their 

good luck to chance 

on such a storm 

on such a day.

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: PxHere

The Second One (Day 242)

The second one was waiting

in the wings, with sweet words

and shiny things to coax 

you from the burrow where 

you hid—what he didn’t tell you 

yet unsaid. His blue eyes and 

warm hands would have been 

enough. The rest was barely 

icing on a cake too sweet, 

too light to be believed. 

And there it was: The truth 

will out, they said, and then 

you’ll see. (What they said 

behind your back you never 

learned.) But her unrehearsed 

kindness made it clear she 

understood how he’d behaved. 

Would you have been so 

warm, were roles reversed? 

(c) 2018, by Hannah Six

Image: PxHere