Submissions by strawberryfields (strawberry.fields)

she was reading a book.

her legs were crossed
and she was completely
engulfed in the words,
not glancing to see who was
coming in or who was going out.

a strand of her short hair
had drifted in front of her face,
but she didn't bother to move it.    

nothing mattered to her
more than that book,
and i sat here wishing i had a book,
so that maybe i'd stop thinking.

Every whisper
is a scream
to my open window,

every shaken breath
is a call to the wind,

and when the bedsprings
creak when I shift my weight,
the devil grins and rattles
empty shackles.