When you read this The storm will have passed The fire extinguished The fight far behind. When you read this Your wounds will have healed Your pain scabbed over Your … Continue reading When You Read This
We’ve been in this maze for so long
But we are not lost
Life is long and the maze is winding
The goal’s not the end
It’s the route you take to reach it.
I’d been walking alone for so long
I was not lonely
Others beckoned me to follow them
Their paths unenticing
Until I ran into you walking my way.
We pick the same path and I pause
To look back
At the turns we have taken together
At the paths I could take on my own
If I decided to say “So long.”
She burnt away, rotting from within
Until all that was left was ceramic skin
Perfectly painted with only one crack
Just below the knee, a hole of deep black
The only blemish on a porcelain doll,
Showing inside she was nothing at all
But empty and hollow, full of dead space
A vacuous vacuum with a manufactured face
No love in her heart, nothing in her head
AnaMia’s glassy eyes already felt dead
But she still smiled a fixed, painted grin
Because now that doll was finally thin.
Via Daily Prompt: Thin
‘Twas the night before NaNoWriMo and all through the house
Not a creature was stirring, not even a mouse;
The writing desk by the window was tidied with care,
In hopes that inspiration soon would be there;
Characters were nestled all snug in their beds,
While visions of plotlines danced in their heads.
So, I’m attempting NaNoWriMo this year- if anyone else is doing it let me know and we can be buddies 🙂
Author: Clara Ross
There’s something in the way you move that reminds me of him. It flickers across your face and changes you. Momentarily. And then you are back.
I wonder if it’s co-incidence or if my masochistic subconscious latched on to it as we fell in love. Worse still, I wonder if you picked it up from me. If I’ve been unwittingly carrying him in the way I hold myself.
It scares me sometimes in a way I struggle to explain. I have to remind myself that bad people have good traits too. And that some bad traits wore the masks of good ones and I shouldn’t hold the good ones responsible for that.
But it’s hard.
When you say, How was your day? What did you get up to? I hear, You better have a good excuse for not being here today. And you better not leave again any time soon.
Abuse can wear the face of concern. And now both of them give me chills.
The news screams of war.
Nuclear sirens and wildfires,
Extremists taking their fight
To the streets.
I try to memorize the way you look at me
The way my name sounds on your lips
How warm you are, how safe.
Politicians in hot water
Without a home nation
On a boiling planet.
I might be holding you in the eye of the hurricane
There might be disaster at our door.
But I will remember this moment.
For when the world ends.
There are so many people
Everything feels out of time
It messes with my thoughts
And messes up my rhyming…
Shit. That’s not quite right
I know I can do better
Words scramble in my brain
I can’t settle on a…
Shit. What that word?
For one alphabetical member
I’d communicate my meaning
If only I could… not forget?
Shit. They’ve all leaked
From my brain into my chest
There’s no space for air
I need a place to… sit?
Shit. That’s not it.
Is this some kind of test?
The walk home, alone
Gives my brain a rest.
In the cold air of December
I start to feel much better
Do you think they will remember,
When I misplaced a letter?
When I lost my rhyme?
Do you think they will forget it?
Or will they understand
That I just felt too… well,… shit?
The lovers stilled to watch their hearts dance.
Between them was more than chemistry, more than sparks. It was a charge that buzzed through the air, crackling over the goosebumps of the crowd.
They were electric. Magnetic.
In the right mood- pulled together and impossible to unstick. Circling one another, always touching and never looking away.
In the wrong mood- violently repelled and relentlessly repulsed. But even then every action was reactionary, unable to do anything that wasn’t tied to the other.
Two halves of one force of nature.
A single white rose grew in a field of daisies.
She knew she was not like the others.
She grew taller than they did
And lacked their happy yellow centre
Her petals were too big.
When children came to make flower crowns
From daisies that were so easily chained
They looked but did not pick her,
For they knew she was substandard
Her stem was too thick.
A boy ran to catch up with his sister
Dropping a daisy chain near the rose
She watched them wither and realised
Picked daisies never came back
And so she grew thorns.