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