Messy – Daily Prompt

“But how? How does one live a life that is not messy?” the girl asked.

“One doesn’t.” the woman replied.

“I don’t want my life to be messy” the girl sulked.

“Then learn to clean up after yourself.”

via Daily Prompt: Messy

Puncture Wounds

Puncture Wounds

Your presence in my life is a series of puncture wounds. Brief. In-out. In-out. But deep. They bleed and bleed. And just as one begins to heal, you come and inflict another. In-out. It bleeds and bleeds.

Every time I ready my armor. I start to slowly put it on. But I’m never fast enough. In-out. Blood. Because I do not want to be. In-out. Blood. For you are a rose, and to have your beauty, I will bear your thorns. In-out. Blood.

via Daily Prompt: Puncture

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Expectations – Daily Prompt

I gave you a smile and expected nothing in return; I gave you a hand and expected nothing in return; I gave you my heart and expected nothing in return; I gave you everything I could and expected nothing in return. Or so I thought.

I was wrong.

When I gave you a smile, I expected it to make you smile; when I gave you a hand, I expected you to take it; when I gave you my heart, I expected you to want it; when I gave you everything, I expected you to need it.

via Daily Prompt: Expectation

Heard – Daily Prompt

I heard you when you said you wanted a friend. I heard you when you said you needed some help. I heard you when you sighed, I heard when your heart broke, I heard you when your breath came hard and panic clawed at your throat. I heard you when you laughed, I heard you when you cried. I heard you when you thought there was nobody listening. I heard the inner turnings of you mind, I heard the quiet whispers of your soul. I heard you then, I hear you now, I will hear you always.

Do you hear me?

via Daily Prompt: Heard

Uncertainty – Daily Prompt

Uncertainty – Daily Prompt

When I think about you, it’s not the distance that’s the worst to bare. It’s not the silence or inconsistency or the confusion. It’s the uncertainty. It’s the endless stream of “or”s that tears me apart piece by little piece. It’s that when I ask myself why, I don’t have one answer, I have 10 and every day, a different one seems more likely. It’s that every question that I ask and every move that you make adds more possibilities, until I’m drowning.

This is what madness is. Madness is a chain of “or”s.

Art by Alex Hall

Unfinished – Daily Prompt

Unfinished – Daily Prompt

It all feels so unfinished. Like God got distracted in the middle of writing our story and forgot what He was going to write, so He continued with a different story. Continued with yours, but not with mine.

Sometimes I think that I was just not good enough a character to be part of your story. Or that I was so insignificant, so irrelevant that God simply forgot I was also around. But sometimes, in the early hours of dawn – the time of dreams – I wonder if maybe… maybe God didn’t forget at all. Maybe He’s just waiting for the right time to reveal the epic plot twist that will take us all by surprise.


Together – Daily Prompt

I dream of a time when we are together;

When your arms are my refuge and your heart is my tether.

I wish for the day when I will be free,

When my heart will belong to no one but me.

The dream fights the wish, the wish fights the dream,

Two shards of myself, such conflict within;

I wonder in the end which one will win,

The mind with the wish or the heart with the dream?

Craving – Daily Prompt

Craving – Daily Prompt

Craving – noun: an intense, urgent, or abnormal desire or longing.

Sam snapped the thick volume shut. Everyone these days had apps that told them the meaning of words, but she had always preferred the solidity of a dictionary. You could flip through a dictionary and find new words. In fact, it invited you to do so. Sam had always loved words.

Logophile – noun:  a lover of words

People underestimated words and the power they had if one knew how to wield them. Power over the self and power over others. Perhaps this way is better, thought Sam for people usually crave power. 

Megalomaniac – noun: a person who has an obsessive desire for power

Sam was not a megalomaniac. She had never craved power. Perhaps that’s why it was given to her. What do I crave? She asked herself. Love?  She flipped the pages of her dictionary until she found it. There were a lot of definitions.

Love – noun: a (1) :  strong affection for another arising out of kinship or personal ties <maternal love for a child>

No, one does not crave what one already has.

(2) :  attraction based on sexual desire :  affection and tenderness felt by lovers

Definitely not. Sam had always had no small amount of contempt for romantic and sexual relationships. She could never forget her father. And she could never forgive him.

(3):  affection based on admiration, benevolence, or common interests <love for his old schoolmates>

No, she did not crave this either. What good had affection ever done her?

(4): unselfish loyal and benevolent concern for the good of another

Yes, this sounded more like something she would want. Did she crave it? No, no she did not. She had enough of it that her desire was quenched. Not love. I do not crave love. What, then? Peace?

Peace – noun: (1) a state of tranquillity or quiet: as

a :  freedom from civil disturbance 

b :  a state of security or order within a community provided for by law or custom <a breach of the peace>

(2) freedom from disquieting or oppressive thoughts or emotions

No, not particularly. She liked peace, but she did not crave it. Love and peace. She was told these are the things most people crave. Aside from power. She craved neither. What did she crave? She did crave something. She could feel it gnawing at her. She could feel the intensity of her desire. She needed to know what it was for.

Sam started flipping back and forth through her dictionary, as she always did when she was anxious or unhappy, when she lost her grip on herself. Faster and faster, until her control returned. Her eye caught on something.

Knowledge – noun: awareness of something : the state of being aware of something

A small gasp escaped her lips. Yes! She thought. Yes, this was what she wanted. She realized now, it was what she had always wanted. She wanted to know, to understand, to be aware.

Awareness – noun: knowing and understanding a lot about what is happening in the world or around you

She craved awareness and that realization in itself brought awareness. Sam’s lips curled into a slight smile as she closed her eyes. She closed the dictionary, loosing a contented sigh.

The Sanctuary – Daily Prompt

The Sanctuary – Daily Prompt

I go every dawn, as the sun wakes from its slumber,

To the Sanctuary.

I do not remember the first time I went, nor why I started going,

To the Sanctuary.

I cannot imagine a time when dawn will find me anywhere,

But the Sanctuary.

I ask you every day before I leave if you will come with me,

To the Sanctuary.

And every day you whisper gently “I have no need –

You are my Sanctuary.”

Slowly – Daily Prompt

Slowly – Daily Prompt

The wind rustles the leaves gently, slowly. The birds chirrup lazily, the sun burns softly. The world is at peace. Strange how peace and slowness seem to be so closely related in our minds. Peace is diminutive. That’s why I have never known it. I am a raging storm, I am loud and vibrant. Nothing about me is diminutive. Nothing about me is slow.

Slowly, my mother used to say to me. And I never understood why. I never understood why I should shackle myself. I wanted to soar, I wanted to do everything, go everywhere. I never wanted to stop and I couldn’t understand why my mother wanted me to. Slow down, child so that you may know peace. She would say. Peace is diminutive and I will not be diminished. I would reply.

Of course, I was young, beautiful and smart. Full of energy and strength, but tempered with far too little wisdom. I didn’t understand that peace is not diminutive, but gentle. That it doesn’t seek to diminish, but to soothe. I threw myself at life as if it was a wave and I was going to surf it and life obliged. But I never stopped to see the flood I left behind. Until it all caught up to me and now I wish I had listened to my mother.

But what’s done is done. Slowly. I remind myself as I try to mop up the mess I’ve made.