Sometimes I think
of how you would have been
had I been someone else. 

We would have been friends,
just friends, surely, but
we’d connect on a level higher
than with anyone else in our lives.

We’d go from anonymous to
monogamous, eventually, and
we took an awful lot with us
when we went, but it’s okay. 

I’m safe. I’m done with my
days of leather and lace.
I’ll be anything you want
me to be, if you just keep me.

Today’s poetry prompt words were: sometimes, anonymous, and leather.

Write about your first name: its meaning, significance, etymology, etc.

Like Dick Cheney?

Are you Dick Cheney’s granddaughter?

Don’t shoot me in the face, Cheney!

You like the dick, Cheney?

My middle name is Meaghan and I think that was supposed to be my first name, until my mom was reading a book one day and saw the name “Cheney” in it and thought it was a good name.

It has not turned out to be a good name.

Before this Dick, Dick Cheney ruined my life for some years, I still hated my name.

I was angry when I … Read the rest

You are too deeply engraved into my heart to leave.
You’ve built a home here inside of me; you live in
my hand, too, yours in mine, and in bed we
tangle limbs and get as close as we can –
and if you can do that,
how can you think of leaving?

You are to embedded in my soul to leave.
You’ve taken up residence, you pay rent,
your thoughts control my thoughts, and
oh, how I wish that weren’t the case,
but I love you in ways most won’t ever
understand, but you understand me,
that’s all that … Read the rest

When you say you don’t want this, I don’t believe you. I mean, I believe you wish you’d never had this, but now that you do, this is what you want to keep. It’s been so long now, you don’t feel at home in the world anymore, just here with me –  and I don’t bite, I swear. Not if you love me. Not if you promise to love me, and stay with me forever.

Today’s poetry prompt words were: I don’t believe you, it’s been so long, and bite.

_{Image created in Gemini by me – I am enjoying} … Read the rest

What’s your dream job?

If you’re here reading this, you’re sort of looking at it.

My dream job is to write for a living (again). I got a taste of it for a few years when Newsbreak was just throwing money at me, but that income source dried up like an old African desert well and the tap has never really been turned on for me again.

So, I write.

I write poems every day, not because I think they’re going to make me money, but because I love writing poetry and I think the more I write, the better … Read the rest