He was down on one knee with the open box in his hand, looking at me, confused.
“Who are you?” he asked.
“Bobby, it’s me. What do you mean?”
He looked at the shimmering ring in his hand and snapped the box closed as he stood.
“I don’t know what’s going on here, but I don’t know you.”
“Excuse me, dear, where am I?” a woman asked.
Everyone in the room looked scared and confused but me.
What magic is this, what evil?
I was inches away from everything I wanted, but he forgot … Read the rest
What makes you feel nostalgic?
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
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 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
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
When are you most happy?
A month ago I would have told you I was most happy cuddled in bed with my boyfriend, no clothes, skin on skin, arms and legs wrapped around each other and as close as we could physically be.
But we are done with our relationship now.
I am done with it. I don’t care whether he wants to “keep working on things”.
I don’t want to keep working on things, and that’s a good enough reason to let go and let it be over.
Is my heart broken? Yeah. I woke up this morning … Read the rest
I should have said goodbye years ago, the first time you wanted to, the second time, the tenth. But I wasn’t the only one saying let’s give it one more chance, I wasn’t the only one holding on. I wake up tired every morning, crying alone in bed, looking at the space you took up and picturing you there welcoming me into your waiting arms. I cry because I am starved for touch. I cry because of you. The line between me handling it and having a breakdown is paper thin. I’ve been holding myself together with scotch tape … Read the rest
