I am spentdrops ofpaint dripping downthe empty canvas-no longer.Don’t stop. paint-slicked skinfinger to lips.think. I am spent,like the final cointhat falls intothe slotand startsour favorite song. That’s it.Let’s danceSlowly. Hand in hand,Eye to eye,So, worth itin The End. This is my poetic entry for Friday Fictioneers where every week we write 100-word stories in response […]