When the people hear our story
they might only get one side.
They might only hear what I say,
which for a while will probably
not be anything nice.
They will not blame me.
When I go before the prosecutor
I will answer them truthfully:
“Yes, he told me he loved me every day.”
“Yes, he told me he would never leave me.”
“No, I did not believe him.”
Then when I speak for the defense
I will tell them truths as well:
“No, I haven’t trusted him for years.”
“Sure, I wanted to, but I shouldn’t have.”
“Yes, I … Read the rest
Author: Cheney (Page 9 of 12)
I woke up at 5:30 this morning, which I try to do every day that I work my day job.
See how I said “work my day job”?
Maybe if I keep telling myself it’s just my day job, I will once again be able to tell people with confidence that I am a writer.
A writer who has barely written or shared anything she’s written in years, besides snippets of poetry and prose catered to prompts.
Not that I’m complaining about writing prompts, I love writing prompts. They get me writing faster and with more speed and enthusiasm than … Read the rest
I am never going to do this again, I chant to myself as I try to block out thoughts of what might have been.
I am never again letting him convince me that “this time it will be different” because it’s never different, nothing ever changes, not even the words he says and the things he does to try to get me back.
I am never going back.
This was written in response to Maya Stein’s Tri-Writing prompt: I am always / I am never…
“Look here, it’s a relic from the Last Times,” the puppet said, holding out the object in its jointed, jangly hand.
“Well, what is it? What does it do?”
“It doesn’t matter because I don’t know,” the puppet said, pulling its hand away, “And there’s no one left to tell us.”
This was written in response to Maya Stein’s Tri-Writing prompt: What is this object? Tell us its purpose in 3 lines.
You tell me how much you love me and want to spend the rest of your life with me, but then your conscience creeps up on you and you run as fast as you can in the other direction.
You sprint back, promising it will be all it was before and more, better than before, because you know what you want now and you’ll never leave me again.
I give you another chance, we have a great weekend, and then things spiral downward until the cycle repeats…because we’re trapped in it.
This was written in response to Maya Stein’s Tri-Writing… Read the rest
