Thrown by Rando Mithlo at



written by: Rando Mithlo



One note held
Ripped at the fold
A pleasing read
My hunger need

Tore it more
In memory stored
I’d love to say
But, who’d love to know?

In paper framed
pen made a mess
A thought unclear
Then crushed in fist

I can’t explain
Not fast enough
The ink that ran
The blood that rushed

Her delicate white
Hand had thrown
Departed from
And arcing up

To watch it soar
Her perfect pitch
A storm-like cloud
Of fragrance lift

Catch it before
You close the door
Hard to swallow
The fortune known
-Now gone

Rando Mithlo

Rando Mithlo

Artist and Writer from Los Angeles currently living in Indiana - the bulk of my writings are short stories and poems that deal with a range of subjects including: emotional distress, strange happenings, thrillers and suspense stories.
Rando Mithlo

Latest posts by Rando Mithlo (see all)