Monia Kurtz
Bio
Poet. Writer. Blossoming bud.
Stories (1/0)
Addicted to love
Love. Feeling it is better when there’s a storm. The sky was remarkably angry with its melodramatic gray clouds. It dulled the place. The exquisite furniture seemed to take offense. As a sort of defiance— to rebel against Mother Earth; specifically, her mightiness— the sea-moss colored cushions sagged begrudgingly against anybody who found placement there. It was the most awkwardly beautiful color for a sofa. Even with the rain disrespectfully dragging its tongue over the entire surface of the window pane, snatching all the attention. Flow’s attentive eyes focused on the air-pocketed sacs that collected on the large bow window. There was a little hesitation with the rain. It would pour with fear-evoking vengeance when all the clouds aligned overwhelmingly. The hesitation was just a fool placing his bets amongst a variety of bulls. Loneliness hugged Flow tightly. She fought against it kicking her legs forward— her hooves landing hard on the floor. In many ways, she resembled a bull. Her knees followed soon after, hitting the cedar hardwood involuntarily. Trembling uncontrollably, her hands raised and covered her wide-doe eyes to catch the tears that were ready to fall. She would need those later.
By Monia Kurtz3 years ago in Fiction