The incredible sadness of the faded girl

The incredible sadness of the faded girl

still tossing her hair, failing at catching

and running. Tricking herself

into small displays of youth

as she trusts, in his eyes, she is still 30 years ago.

Turning to smile, she sees

the side of his face and his mouth, open

to say something banal that reminds her she is grown

and the sparkles shine dimly in the bottom drawer.

Tossing the day she stumbles,

catches herself laughing,

feels again the stab of joy,

shining in her hands.

© Amanda J Harrington 2016

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And my fairy blog

Safe Passage

In the space outside the hull,

lithe creatures twist and snake

about the blackened shell.

They writhe and fight against themselves,

as if in ecstasy, despair, and smooth

one across another and another,

deep and full, wide, high;

in every direction they torment,

only still for the moment

it takes for them to move again.

Living depends

on them feeling no vibration,

feeling no noise or movement

from the small vessel

caught close between them.

If it moves slowly, drifts through their coils, they let it be.

Some days it can be hard not to scream and end it all.

© Amanda J Harrington 2016

My books on Amazon
My own website for books and tuition

Find me on Facebook and Twitter!

Read my Aspergers blog
And my fairy blog

Cold Caller

Tap tap tap,
the little raw hand at the door,
no skin, no meat,
no soft, willing flesh
to soften the sound
as it gently, incessantly
taps to come in.

And any gap at the door
will find fingers there,
scraping into the space,
pointed, sharpened ends
cutting the wood in their eagerness
to be in.

A click as the latch gives;
sudden and listening,
the tapping ends,
bald, skinless ears pricked
and the space is filled.

© Amanda J Harrington 2016

My books on Amazon
My own website for books and tuition

Find me on Facebook and Twitter!

Read my Aspergers blog
And my fairy blog