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
Decades ago,
it’s been decades now,
you and I shared space
in the same place
at the same time
and the fact that
was even possible
feels like magic.
Now all I have are
memories and imaginations,
like the lump of my belly
growing with our baby
and the house we
would have bought together,
the home we would
have made forever.
Remember marching
up the sand dunes to see
the most beautiful sunset
of our entire lives?
Do you remember dancing
at Limelight, utterly high with the
flashing lights and pulsing music,
our sweaty bodies sliding
against each other … 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
I was once told that when you love someone, to you, they’re the most beautiful thing in the world. That gave me hope, and now it will give me comfort the first time I take my clothes off in front of a new man. Not that I really think or expect any new man to love me, but I still need to get laid either way. So for now I am not a beautiful or loved thing. All the love I ever had can be spoken now in past tense. The present is talking freedom and second, third, and millionth … Read the rest
You are not special. You think I made you my world, but my world is built with words and dreams, and I’m not dreaming about you anymore. Surely this was to be expected after years of swimming in your toxic waters; there should be no surprise. I dreamt you had the face of an angel, the ass of David, and a heart soft enough to feel safe inside. But these dreams turned out to be wishes, there is a difference, and either way, they never come true.
Today’s poetry prompt words were: not what anyone expected, swimming, and David… Read the rest
Six years is a long time when you’re only 43. I met you in my prime and now my hair is coming in white. That’s probably your fault. I can blame a lot of my pain on you, but nevertheless, I made choices, too. The argument that someone needs to take blame at all is null. Blame is my favorite game to play, and I almost always win, no matter which side I’m on. Here it is plain and simple: I love you. But I am not sure whether I’m in love with you anymore.
Today’s poetry prompt words were: … Read the rest
When you leave we don’t say goodbye anymore. I don’t pause to put down my coffee and stand to get one last hug and kiss from you, I don’t tell you I love you, I don’t walk you to the door so I can shut it quietly behind you. Later, I’m cold as ice and turn my head from you, I don’t want to look at you, especially as we decorate the tree with things you dragged from the basement without me asking. This was going to be our first real Christmas in our home, and now it’s going to … Read the rest
I almost got what I wanted could be the story of my life. A Mitsubishi Eclipse in 2001. A job that would have had me moving to New Orleans in 2003. An abortion in 2005. A lifetime with you. We were at the edge of forever, dancing around it like we do in the kitchen now, orbiting each other so we never touch. Every time you make a dinner I don’t deserve, I walk in there with hunger and walk out feeling like I left my heart behind.
Today’s poetry prompt words were: I almost got what I wanted, at … Read the rest
