Certainly my play with words is the biggest form of play in my life and always has been since childhood.

Even in adulthood, it’s weird being one of those people who genuinely means it when they say their favorite things to do are read and write. That’s me!

I’d also rather stay inside than go out at any given time, an 80% indoor girl, I’d say.

But I don’t mind being the quiet dreamer who stays in and spins stories after sucking them down as fast as I … Read the rest

You always take care of the dirty dishes. Always. I can’t remember the last time my hands slid in slimy, sudsy soap water. You always take the trash out. You always bring things down to the storage space so I don’t have to go down the scary stairs full of cobwebs. We were so close to making it, but not close enough. I’ll never know what glue I was missing that could have kept you here, but I think I was the one lacking, and I will blame myself for everything until my last breath. I’m taking the jump from … Read the rest

It’s a new year tomorrow.

It used to be such a big deal to me, celebrating the new year, but now it doesn’t matter at all, it’s just another day, and a way of marking time.

I’d like tomorrow, my first day of the new year, not to be one of reflection and waxing nostalgic over anything.

I am laser focused on my future and what I am going to do to make it better, and make it on my own.

Life really throws the shit at you sometimes, huh? I didn’t expect that during … Read the rest

This isn’t a time out,
this is an end,
and I know now
it’s coming, soon. 

We don’t need a
critical analysis or
more digging down
into our psyches to know
that we’ve gone
as far as we can go.

It’s not as easy as
sweeping the past
under a rug and hoping
to forget the mess. 

What’s left here will linger.
What’s left here will poke
at my tortured heart
long, long after you’re gone.

Today’s poetry prompt words were: time out, critical analysis, and sweeping.

_{Photo by Joseph Sharp on Unsplash}

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