Nicole Johnson

Category: poetry

  • Blackened corridor

    Some nights she wakes to the cold sweats of dementia. Petrified of present surroundings; where is she? The sweat dribbles down her neck in the essence of solitude. He stood in the corner shadowed by his own darkness as he watched her drown.

  • Tranquility cloak

    With these fingers, I release you. Release all of your worries and self-doubts into the sea of wallowing tranquility. With these palms I anchor you to my chest as we exhale our sorrows and ease into rest. With these eyes I sought protection from all of the unseen and endless…

  • The oblivion

    Standing on the edge of the oblivion. We are so high. So afraid to jump and yet afraid to move closer to the cusp of tomorrow. Grasping each other’s hands, a gentle squeeze no longer. We hold on to the memories with the will of a thousand strangers. Not a…

  • The suitcase bandit

    Life may go on and time may very well heal, but for me it’s at a standstill. Memories of what you could have looked like forever etched deeply into my brain. If only I could have seen you just once to know if you were my carbon-copy. I miss you.…

  • Target practice

    Call me a sap,but a partnership between two people whom have confessed their love to one another means the ability to be vulnerable. A few shed tears should not be found repulsive, but wiped clear with the tip of ones finger. Tragedies happen every day and some so tragic we hiss…