The frequency
with which you hurt me
surprises me still.
I really put up
with all that
for so long?
I have a
dilemma of self,
because now,
who am I
without you?
I’m the girl
that keeps going,
nose to grindstone,
making the grade,
getting her heart broken
every single day.
Today’s poetry prompt words were: frequency, dilemma, and making the grade.
Photo by Deepak Gupta on Unsplash
Another day is fading away and soon you won’t be here anymore. Your presence here has an expiration date, even though I don’t know what it is, or how I’ll get through it. You’re going to go, so I need to grow. I need to remember that I have wings too, and leaving the nest isn’t necessarily not an option. What a wonder it would be if I could get by without you, without my pills, without my therapist. What a wonder it will be if I do.
Today’s poetry prompt words were: expiration date, leaving the nest, and pills. … Read the rest
I really thought we would last this time, last like the smooth rocks in rivers we’ve camped by, last like they have for ages, just letting the water pass around them. We’re more like cats in traffic, terrified and dodging anything that moves, because any movement is a terror. Any pulling or putting away. This is a terror, every moment. I know nothing is as scary as waiting for you to leave. I don’t want you to go, but you won’t choose me, so you can’t stay. You’ll go like you came, and maybe we’ll end like we began, first … Read the rest
I’ve always wanted to see
the skies of Montana, or even
Wyoming, wherever that is;
can I find it on a map?
I’ll check the forecast,
pack up my medicine and
toothbrush and clothes,
and I’ll just fucking go.
Set out on the highway
With “head west” being
the only thing I know,
a road that may or may not
be lonely, and my cat,
she comes, too.
I’m going to die
if I don’t get away from you.
Today’s poetry prompt words were: Wyoming, forecast, and medicine.
Photo by Neil Wallace on Unsplash
I can’t take this anymore
I’ve said hundreds of times
but now I really mean it.
I can’t take it,
not a minute longer.
We’ve lived a life of
make-believe and never
stopped playing games.
Dress-up, house, pretend.
It really has to end.
I’ve been dancing
around the edges of
my escape route and
now I’m running toward it.
I want to be free
as fast as I can be.
Today’s poetry prompt words were: not a minute longer, make-believe, and dancing.
Photo by Erik Karits on Unsplash
If only things
had worked out
the way I’d wished they would
We’d be opening gifts and
taking photos in front of
our first Christmas tree
But now I wish you
weren’t here, and instead
I’m planning my exit strategy.
Today’s poetry prompt words were: if only, dinner, and exit strategy.
Photo by Andrew Abbate on Unsplash
It’s Christmas Eve.
I wish more than ever
that this wasn’t happening.
I wish we could have lived
a life together from the start,
like you had with her,
like I’ll never have
with anyone.
I wish you were like your dad
who kept walking past your mom
to see her through a window while
she worked, and he wouldn’t
give up on her, he’d never give up.
Our love, if you could call it that,
went up and down like the
elevators your father worked on.
You said elevators can’t really crash
like they do in the movies, but… Read the rest
I wanted to be a part of your family at the Fourth of July picnic that’s crazy like a circus, at your sister’s table on holidays, by your side on Christmas morning. I had dreams of all of these things in my life, and now I look past tomorrow and see nothing but darkness. I’m spaced out in shock, still not wanting to accept it’s over, regarding re-entry into real life as an assault, because how do I live without you? How I go days without talking to you? I won’t be going to your niece’s wedding next year. I … Read the rest
We said it so many times we called it 10%, because it felt like “I love you” was 10% of all we say to each other. Every day, I love you, I love you, I love you, a balm I’ll never grow tired of but, underneath it all, became a noose around your neck. We’ll stick to easy games; no tag, no red rover, no hopscotch, nothing that involves touching or thinking about you. Finger painting, maybe, that’s an activity we can do together now that cuddling and sex are off the table. My best friend has a sex painting. … Read the rest
