He was pulled off on the side of the road to tie the tarp back down in the bed of his truck when the phone rang. He locked eyes with her photo on the screen. Eyes that brought him so much joy now looked back at him with judgement in every pixel. The picture spoke […]
I’m numbed by the days,Trying to make othersUnderstand; explainingMyself months over months. I’m tired of the anger.I’m tired of the worry..I’m tired of planning.I’m tired of thinking. I’ve become a secret;A promise in the dark.Obedient, yet still found out.Patience brought me here. I’ve got nothing left.I’ve lost all cares.I’ve hit the wall ofLearned helplessness. I
I’m tired of the voices outside my head;Caught between contradiction of tongues;Receiving what’s not been asked for,from those who I wouldn’t dare imitate. How much blood must be spilt on the pagefor their satisfaction? How many mapped-out plans, and goals stated, so intricatelyarticulated, will stop them from one more,“Yes, but have you thought of…?” I
My hand yearns to write happy things,but my broken heart still won’t let me. I always said that if your love ever stopped, I wouldn’t hold it against you. I never saw you as merely an object to obtain, a subject to study, or a city to be conquered. You said you’d never loved someone
Sara stepped outside her front door into the September air. The intense heat of summer had ended and the Autumn breeze slowly staked its claim on the small town. She planned on planting daffodils in the front flower bed so that they’d be ready to bloom once Spring came back around. Next, she would go
The September Letter Read More »
I hate dreaming. I hate it because you appear to me whenever I least want you to, and you always come to me as soon as I’ve forgotten you the most. Last night, when you walked up to me so innocently, I couldn’t understand that you were merely a figment of my subconscious, kicking up
The sun shone, but no warmth could be felt. It left earlier than the day before. The trees have died, but something inside me is more alive than ever. The North night rises again and fills my veins. A flame’s hidden in the thicket, burning away the thorns. The cold won’t stop my legs from
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