Today it's been raining since 3 o' clock in the morning, and the sun never made it to my frosted window. It's the month of January, a preordained winter sits on my bones willing to live longer than this apparent halt in time, but they say winter is cruel and I can't tell otherwise.
The sound of rubber wheels hissing over the wet road, rainwater splashing on cars like blanched blood shed in a timeless rebellion with the sky, everything seems to be following some ritual of the past where none but winter survives.
It's quiet at my place today. With less people, there's less noise and more silence. It's still raining outside. I keep my window closed; there maybe an incursion anytime, they say and I believe. Winter is cruel, and my bones aren't resilient to time.
Line Messaging is an interesting poetry form created by Angel Favazza. It is a poetic form wherein the poet writes the last line of each stanza in a way that if the last line of each stanza is read together (separately from the poem) it will have an independent message or be a poem all on its own.
--Today, write a creative line messaging poetry.--