The things that used to scare me were the ideas that I was under private investigation, or I would be ambushed, or I would be punched in the face.
Now, I’m scared that my life is being wasted one day at a time while the things that are second nature to me are banished from my existence.
I always knew you were vanilla, but I never thought you would be cold.
Today’s poetry prompt words were: private investigation, second nature, and vanilla.
Photo by Orissa Humes on Unsplash
forgive me, my love
i’ve been up all night with tears
in my eyelashes
Today’s poetry prompt words were: up all night, forgive me, and eyelashes.
Photo by Solving Healthcare on Unsplash
Most people don’t mean what they tell you, they can look into your eyes and lie as easy as taking a breath in and pushing it out. You won’t trust anyone again, no man, no friend, no co-worker, even your siblings are sus. And this is what you get for living life in the fast lane, for being wild, for feeling more than just a little bit free to do whatever you want, and being completely wrong. So go on dreaming of the backyard family picnics, the rocking chairs on the porch close enough for you to hold hands, going … Read the rest
That we even met was against all odds, despite my name being there in the trees in the town where you lived. You drove by my name for years — “It’s a sign!” — but now the trees are dead, and will soon be gone.
I swear to myself I’ll be picky in chasing the new love of my life, swear to myself that next time I won’t compromise on my needs. I’ve been doing somersaults to just get you to want me; it’s backbreaking work, and I’d like to be done now.
It hurts to not feel … Read the rest
Get me out of here has been on my mind quite a bit these days. The urge to just get up and run out the door. I wouldn’t take a thing. Bags unpacked, purse abandoned, phone smashed, I’d run.
I’d speed down the highway heading west, hitting the low shoulders as I pass on the right, I’m in too much of a hurry for rules, as I’ve always been, and now it’s time to live my life.
But first, I have to find it.
Who the fuck am I?
Who the fuck am I to think I can just run … Read the rest
Sometimes a talk isn’t just a talk.
Sometimes you ask “What’s the matter?”
and then everything falls apart.
Sometimes you can’t un-say things.
Sometimes words hit your heart
and leave everything broken.
Sometimes, after, you make love,
and sometimes you don’t touch.
Sometimes life starts feeling like
one long sleepover because you are
always waiting for him to go home.
Today’s poetry prompt words were: what’s the matter, broken, and sleepover.
Photo by Jianfeng Yang on Unsplash
I feel like both the boat and the iceberg at once, the killer and the to be killed.
The killer didn’t know it was doing anything wrong. The killer was at peace in its ocean, hiding. You know, when they say “it’s just the tip of the iceberg” means you only see a little bit of the malice.
But then the boat comes, and with no slowing and no flexibility, she careens into the iceberg, breaking this peaceful beast to pieces.
It didn’t matter if the boat tried to take last minute extreme measures.
The iceberg was always there, and … Read the rest
I’m glad the days of casual dating are over, and there won’t be anymore awkward first times, or men who woo and ditch me, or worse, pretend that I’m interesting and then forget what I said.
I’ve been there, and give the whole thing zero stars. They say you can’t find a man at a bar, but how is finding one online better? It used to be such a foolish and dangerous thing.
But what is a life with no hope for more first kisses on Providence Street? Is it better to sleep comfortably with the same man every night, … Read the rest
We met when your only job was shuttling your children back and forth to their various activities, and now I know you loved that more than most things. You’d drive for hundreds of miles just to get the chance to drive them another few hundred miles.
You are a warrior father. You will go to battle for them but not for me. I am the one you defend them against. You keep me away to keep them protected, and it hurts me, it hurts me, and not a single cook in the kitchen has a clue, or would care … Read the rest
