alone

BraveWrite, Week 4

September 26th

He sits across from his therapist as she checks off #boxes in her mind. She scribbles notes down from his answers and he bites his lip from asking. He’s new to this. His leg bounces, up and down, anxious for answers. Anxious to be told it’s not in his head.

 

September 27th

The wind kisses the leaves with a playful breeze and dances with fading flowers. Insects buzz in swirls around his ears. Rough bark reaches for skin through thick sweaters but he welcomes its affirming touch. He #listens to nature, sat upon its packed dirt.

 

September 28th

She talked to herself through every task. Rambled and raved. No audience required for the #insane mutterings she came across. She told stories in whispers and shouts. She told stories of the sad and mad. It kept her amused. They called her crazy, but she knew where her marbles were.

 

September 29th

She held the leash loosely in her right hand as her dog marched forward, nose to the ground. Their feet and paws crunched on the #crisp leaves felled by Autumn’s breeze. Her eyes were vigilant for any threats to her dog and thankfully her dog listened when needed.

 

September 30th

The #epoch of her life had been the four years in university. She sat in the back, hiding her mind from classmates and professors. She toyed around on her laptop, unable to focus. Anxiety thrummed in her heartbeat, coaxing her into depressive and manic episodes.

 

October 1st

She stands out like a sore thumb covered in scars, tattoos, and piercings. Surrounded by girls in booty shorts and crop tops, she flashes her middle finger at the cookie cutters. She’s #contrarian and bucks the social norm. Beauty is in the eye of the beholder.

 

October 2nd

She was without an #anchor in the storm. The ropes that tied her to the docks had long since frayed, rubbed repeatedly between boat and wood. She nose dived under a large wave, its waters threatening to fill her. Alone in the harbour, she wondered how long she’d last.

 

Advertisement

Very Short Stories, Week 20

Hey everyone! Happy Labour Day, if you celebrate it!

I was enjoying the four day weekend with my hubby, but he’s fallen ill. That means constant snoring is in the background as he naps. Fingers crossed he gets better soon because it sucks when he feels so shitty!

Personally, things are starting to feel more normal since Jasper passed away. I’m crying less, but the last couple nights, he’s visited in some wonky ass dreams so I don’t know what he’s playing at!

That all means my very short stories aren’t as sad, depressing, or negativity. Some are, dare I say, hopeful.

Anyways, hope you enjoy!

 

August 27th

Lies are #tangled webs

That thrive

When the Truth

Dies

Alone and unspoken.

Lies are poison

We drink and spread

Like dinner rolls

Passed Clockwise.

Lies are the half truths

We trust to soothe Pain

That claims

Our minds

And dines on our hopes.

Lies are vicious Weaponry

We wield.

 

August 28th

His strength was a #fragile thing, hid behind stone walls made of pure silence. She longed to shatter them and cherish the words he would whisper. But he was a statue. The odd crack pierced his thick skin and his soul was beautifully broken in those moments of despair.

 

August 29th

The sweet #million tomato plant had grown beyond the garden’s borders. Its vast collection of ripening fruit blocked the zucchini plants and choked the other tomato plants. Roots provided strength to endure the storms that came and went. Yet its own weight toppled its branches.

 

August 30th

#Somewhere out there lies the reason she exists. If only she could separate it from life’s numerous obstacles. Instead, she wanders from problem to problem, fixated on everything, everyone, but her. If only the voices would stop shouting, putting fresh tears in her eyes.

 

August 31st

#Forever, she swore on their wedding day to stand by his side. His screams in bad moments didn’t deter her nor his dark days of depression. Their shared laughs and smiles united them like the knots they tied in matrimony. Together they were strong and she would remind him. Always.

 

September 1st

Street lights remained barren as the #gloaming descended. The asphalt paths were seas of black. Curtains blocked shut windows and multiple locks clicked into place. Any hint of light vanished as the people waited in fearful silence.
The scratching was heard first.

 

September 2nd

#Love is a stitch, a knot

It ties lives together

Loose or tight

Its thread can break

Wear and tear

It can be replaced

With #Love again

Tender touch

And words of care

Can repair

A broken stitch

But take heart

Best not to break

A bond of #Love

#PicturePoetryPrompt: Gun Control

From North of the border,
I watch my American friends
suffer time and again.
A vicious cycle repeating.

Bullets fired from GUNS
are worth more than
LIVES
I hear again and again.

And yet there’s a growing chorus
Of voices.
Young
Old
Female
Male
Gay
Straight
Black
White.

They scream for CONTROL
United against a bigger threat.
They don’t want to hide
Afraid and alone
from angry people who take their rage
like tidal waves
and crash into innocents.

They want change.
Not to take all the GUNS away
But to restrict the types
Create stiffer rules.
What threat is this
to your freedoms,
My GUN owning friends?

They should be free
to feel SAFE
In a Grocery store
In a School
At a Concert
At a Hospital
At a Synagogue
At a Church

ANYWHERE.

But the NRA has friends
who view CONTROL
as an evil worse than plague
WHICH IT’S NOT.
When did your fellow Americans’ LIVES
come to mean so little?

I see this on my screens
In our papers.
As a Canadian,
I’m thankful for our GUN CONTROL.
I feel SAFE.
If only the change Americans need
would come on swift wings.
I wish you all could feel SAFE
On every day’s journeys.

You see,
I think no man, woman or child
should be afraid to leave their home
for fear of flying bullets
shot from vicious GUNS
hunting them down.

A Lone Soul

A cold hand touches the soul
Draining warmth, comfort
And connectivity.
 
An absence of sound, laughter
Words fail, claimed
By empty air.
 
Phone buzzes on the table
Is it a friend, family?
No, a game alert.
 
Flipping through channels
Searching social media
For something.
 
A need to reach out to another
Yet unaware of its urgency
Until they walk in.
 
They fill the void
And like a moth to flame
Rush to them.
 
Or maybe the door
Never opens, always closed
And we hide
 
Behind curtained windows.

Time To Play!

I can’t believe how much I have done since 5 am! Cleaned my house from top to bottom (I will admit to tidying last night), and I shoveled my driveway and my neighbour’s. Now, I have time to play!

My sister asked me if she could come over and hang out for a little bit and I obviously agreed (part of why I felt the need to clean). She will be here around 11:30am(ish) after an interview for a new job. I’ll be playing hostess until about 2:30pm when I will take her to school and pick her up at 5:30pm.

As I have said in previous posts, I am not someone with a lot (or any) friends. I’d love that to change, but as it stands, my family and husband is all I got. Thus I love the fact my sister reached out to me. There has always been an invitation to message her and hang, but with her in university, I feel guilty stealing any of her time. She has friends and a boyfriend (who seems to be good for her), and those are who she spends her free time with when not studying or working weekends.

Since I spend 80% of my time alone, it will be nice to have some fun talk time! I will have to keep from starting arguments though. It’s my curse how easy I can start a fight and without ever meaning to. I’m hoping she’ll enjoy the time away from our parents’ place and the argument zone it can be from time to time.

This is probably the best part of being an older sibling. I get to provide a (kind of) safe place away from home. We all have gone through those times where we wanted nothing more than to run away from our parents. It doesn’t always have anything to do with them and their treatment of us; just a need for free space and independence.

Anyways I’m going to take a boiling hot shower, scrub myself clean, and relax until she gets here! Take care of yourselves!

 

Please

See me?
 
On the sidelines of your life?
On the bench, alone?
 
I guess you don’t.
I guess it is too little too late.
 
Don’t you see me?
How hard I’ve tried?
 
I reach out, but touch wall.
I reach out, but hear nothing.
 
Have you been locked in a cage?
Pushed from another’s life?
 
I don’t think so.
I don’t think you ever have.
 
Maybe if it had happened to you
You would see me
Screaming for the keys
And you’d open the door.
 
But you don’t, do you?
 
See me?
 
Please.

Tired

I am tired.

Tired of carrying the house’s chores.

My husband’s constant need for backrubs.

I am tired .

Tired of figuring out dinner night after night.

My dogs’ inane need to whine every morning.

I am tired.

Tired of feeling worthless, hung out to dry.

My siblings’ hateful gaze when I speak.

I am tired.

Tired of feeling alone, pulling myself up.

My inner mind’s dark, dark voice.

I am tired.

Tired of sleeping in, depressed.

My dream’s constant hold on me.

I am tired.

Tired of carrying everyone’s problems alongside my own.

My need to please all those around me.

I am tired.

Tired of throwing myself to the side.

My desire to put everyone else before me.

I am tired.

Why doesn’t anyone see that?

Why doesn’t anyone help?

Why doesn’t anyone lend a kind word?

 

 

My Heart, The Sacrifice

Take from me

My Heart,

For I dare not care for you.

This Love is but a void dream,

One I’m sick of seeing.

It tells the same

Old Tale.

Heart break.

Destruction.

Loneliness.

I will not entertain

Your Demons,

The ones you taunt me with.

I sit alone

In the darkness of time

And lust for life

Without your empty promises.

My Heart, I offer.

A sacrifice.

All in hopes of

Bidding thee farewell.

Leave me to myself

For I’d rather break alone.

Solitude

Quiet echoes off barren walls
Darkness fills the mind
And yet
In silent contemplation
Its emptiness is comforting.
 
Day after day
Week after Week
Locked in her room
She stays
Tempted to shed this second skin.
 
Instead
She holds herself tightly
The beating of her heart
Fills her conscious
And she falls in to the abyss
of her own making.
 
A key in the lock
A click
The door opens
Light shines through
And there…
 
The one person welcome
To shatter her world
And bring her into his.

Voices

My voice is quiet,

Folding in upon itself.

It hides from all those questions,

Spoken carelessly with snark.

 

You see, my life’s worthless.

The price tag reads zero,

Attempts to build it up again,

Remain shadows in the dark.

 

I have followed a dream,

Something others don’t quite get.

They flow with the growing tide,

Surrounded by regrets.

 

Outsiders, outliers, outspoken,

They call us,

We turned against the current,

Fought against fearful threats.

 

Our dreams called to us,

Bid us forward with such love.

Yet two steps forward, one step back,

Is what our lives become.

 

Strengthen your voice,

As I try to shout with mine.

There is no telling what might be,

When we embrace our own wisdom.

 

Resist the shackles,

The world wants to bind us with,

And sing your song.

There is always someone wanting to listen.

 

You may feel worthless,

You may be at your wit’s end,

But let me tell you,

We are all friends among friends.

When you’re a writer sometimes you have to spend time poking at a part of yourself that normal, sane people leave alone. ~Vikram Chandra