Maybe it would be better if I imagined happiness in objects I have owned for years instead of searching for it as if it were buried treasure or debating whether it is worth the investment as if I hold shares or twiddling my thumbs hoping the cashier won’t id me as if it can be … Continue reading Fabric Misery
My bones feel rigid like I’m living with rigor mortis, depression’s equivalent of arthritis. There’s nothing the doctor can prescribe; sunshine cannot be packaged and nor can your smile so I guess I’ll just wait in my heaviness. This opaque silence where nothing can relieve the nothingness I feel whenever you leave. © … Continue reading Rigid
I wonder if I knew why I was crying, would answers open themselves up to me like heaven’s gates? I don’t imagine they will be pearly white or morally sane, but they will be answers all the same. Answers for why buried in my chest is a seed. The size of a plum or sometimes … Continue reading The Seed in my Chest
And then, she smiled and there was something strange in the way my skin trembled in the heat of her gaze, like an everlasting summer. ________________________ WP #11: happy Link your response to this prompt, below. Image credit.
Baggage. We drag it to the shrink, Sob with it over a drink. It's a 'me not you' and a blanket for our past. We lump it, squish it and excuse it when it bumps into others. We never check it in, Too eager to own it, abuse it. Baggage is what I was carrying … Continue reading Baggage
Tomorrow I will be posting a poem called 'Baggage', I mentioned in week four of journalling like this that I would be writing a poem in response to Hazel Haye's comment on how we never keep a 'bag of happy'. It is a cynical take on the metaphorical baggage we carry, thus I wanted to … Continue reading In Progress: Baggage (7)