50 Word Stories: Enamoured

She flashed one of those come hither looks only girls of a certain allure managed. Without getting out of her chair or even lowering her glass, she'd captured my attention completely. A flash of two green, bejewelled eyes and she thought me hers. Yes, I was enamoured, but never stupid.

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Control

He twists inside this man
Rapping upon the bars of his bone-white cage
Gnawing and chafing
Seeking to be free, always straining
A force unlike myself, darker
Although I fear by only a shade
He yearns to be free of my self-imposed prison
But it holds him, it holds him just
I know one day he’ll explode
Crash and burst in splinters of me
A brain in one clenched fist
A heart in the other, still pulsing
I’ll hear his laugh of release
An echoing cacophony of clashing teeth
Snapping up this name and spitting it out
He despises me
As I despise him
Thus the balance remains
An awkward non-truce
Me on the outside poking him down
Him on the inside reaching up
I feel his talons on my windpipe now
His eyes on the daylight spied through gritted teeth
His words twisting
They’re guiding me 
Controlling me
Or I, him

To The End

Writing is an expression

A literary transcending

From point A to point B,

Seeds sown in opening lines

Brought to fruition

Over carefully crafted time

Like life itself, one might say.

Pen and keyboard 

Offer control of thought,

Perfect progression

And desired climaxes,

In a way life never can though:

No surprises, no upset, no pain,

Unless desired.

Trick is to control that desire

Right up to:

The End.