verbena

When she laughs like that,

Do you ever wonder,

Is she carefree?

Or afraid?

Alright, a small one for today.

Inner me is enjoying this prompt list for two reasons:

  • Poetry (or at least what I attempt) is difficult but less daunting than a whole storyline like in my FF series
  • I know few people read this so I can be as brutally frank as I want, and still get away with it.

See you lot tomorrow.

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I saw you with her
“Hello dear little placeholder”
You both laughed when I asked why
But I awoke when none met my eye.
I fall asleep again without being told
Why my defiance today was so bold.

You have appeared before
In my somber, and even more,
In my waking thoughts I see your smile.
But darling, it’s been a while
Since someone mocked me as such,
That makes a breath just too much.

But is it surprising at all
To see me take this fall?
Anxious about my own anxiety.
A self-fulfilling prophecy.
I wonder why we’re suddenly estranged,
But perhaps it is me who is deranged.

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The wish to write,
Or type,
Or read, or think, or feel.

The determination of existence,
Beyond tearful solitude,
To create for purpose of creation,
Pleasure to nobody, pain to myself.

The will to write,
Forces me to breathe.

It’s been a while since I wrote poetry that doesn’t rhyme. And it’s so… freeing?

I enjoy some of the new contemporary poets who ignore the strict old fashioned structure of poems and rhymes, and just write.

It’s sort of what I’m attempting this month. Just to be unapologetically myself, even if it reflects on my words.

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“Please shut the window.”

I ask, once more. It’s a small request. I’ve been begging him for weeks. He doesn’t listen.

“Darling?”

A futile attempt to get his attention.

“Hm?”

“Can you please shut the window? I’m cold.”

“Hm.”

I smile and feed greedily on the breadcrumb of conversation given to me.

“Honey, do you mind if I shut the window myself?”

He, of course, says nothing. The shackles on my feet remind me I cannot move. A shiver runs down my spine, as it often does these days. Fear or cold? He notices this and sighs, standing up to close the window.

“Thank you,” I concede. Of course. As always.

“I shall do no more for you,” he says stone-faced, as he’s walking away.

I know.

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