A kiss wouldn’t be enough
to get a taste of you.
You’re the whisper in my ear
before my eyes begin to close.
In those moments,
when dreams don’t seem so out of reach.
I feel your breath against my neck,
as you tell me all that was left unsaid.
Do you hear me too?
Somewhere between apathy and ambition
Cuddled up in a warm blanket of indecision.
Wondering if you would come with me,
Or if I’m brave enough
To ask at all.
I have never taken my head out of the clouds
I doubt I could,
even if I tried.
What is life without the rose colored glasses?
Just an empty heart
With lots of shiny distractions
on the wall.
I wish I could convince you
That there is no such thing as
And that we can run away together
finding adventures in the rain.
I’m not giving up.
and I can smell the rain
wishing I could call and hear your voice
every breath and every thought is tangled up in you.
Instead I am the strong one
who won’t go down that road again
who wants what she can’t have
dreaming of a place where I feel alive
I am the strong one
everything to everyone
everyone but you
I found this when I was going through my documents and it was written in 2013. I honestly have no memory of writing this, but I’m guessing it was from a “prompt” because the subject matter is something that I wasn’t dealing with at the time but have known. I love when I find a piece of writing and don’t want to send it to the recycling bin.
Monday is Marvin.
Marvin is 36, average height, average weight, average looks. He works selling mattress’ in The Main Street shopping plaza in Omaha, Nebraska.
Tuesday is Larissa.
Larissa is 22, always late and consistently clumsy. She works as a receptionist at a law firm in San Bernadino, California.
Wednesday is Wendy.
Wendy is 37, beautiful and optimistic. An artist, she works part time at a boutique in Ashland, Oregon.
Thursday is Aaron.
Aaron is 31, ambitious and impatient waiting for the next step forward in life. He works in sales in Chicago.
Friday is Rebecca.
Rebecca is 19, a social butterfly without a care. She works as a hostess at TGIFriday’s in Scottsdale, Arizona.
Saturday is Clayton.
Clayton is 7 years old, curious and easy-going. He doesn’t work and he lives in a double wide trailer right outside of San Diego.
Sunday is Patrick.
Patrick is 64, studious and kind. He is a priest and lives in Baltimore.
I *really* liked doing that!
The rain poured for hours, while Tara looked in vain out of a small glass window that covered a portion of the front door. Waiting to see the flash of light as headlights turned onto her street to whisk her away from the monotony. Every few minutes she would hear the wind and think he might be there, and she’d eye her purse hanging over the chair but it was now getting late and the rain did not appear to be ready to stop its dance.
Across the room, her phone lights up and she hears the familiar chirp of a text message.
It is crazy outside. Too many accidents. Raincheck?
She waited for thunder to crack dramatically to show the disappointment she felt. Instead, she found a fuzzy blanket to wrap her into a cocoon of disinterest of those around her and found a re-run to watch on Netflix.
“Happy Birthday to me.”
I made my word of the year Write, so I guess I better do that! I plan to write here a few times a week, and hopefully get myself into the habit or writing every day.
It is Friday night, and I can already picture tomorrow morning.
The feel of warm, soft sheets on the bed. My hair falling over my shoulders and my fiances hand curled under my pillow as we sleep in. The blanket is fluffy and purple and wraps around most of me, a leg peeking out normally because I have never liked constriction. When I finally open my eyes, it is almost the afternoon. Everything is a little blurred before I find my glasses, and a blue-gray as the sun peeks from the corners of the dark shade over our window. The sounds of a waterfall have played in the background while I slept, which turns into an array of music and the lilt of my fiances voice as he shows me the fun things he’s found online.
Yeah. I’m rusty.
For my first post, I decided to do a prompt form the PoeticAsides blog. The prompt was to use “If You ___”
If You Stop
For one moment,
remember that the world is spinning
and you are not the center.
nor able to influence it
with the right words
the right temperment
Stop holding on so tight.
there is no way around loss,
no way around life.
it will all unfold as it should.
No matter how hard you try.