Phantasm

when he becomes
more than just a dream,
my heart will beat
the sound of a thousand drums
my soul will ache
with the clinching of needy fists
my mind will race
towards a feminine understanding,
and butterflies will
make sense again.
their existence
somehow unbelievable,
until then.

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Torn

I
love
love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
I love you
its been all I can think about,
it’s all I knew to say,
it’s all my fault,
I’m to blame.
i could have just said,
i want to sleep with you.
can i climb in.
goodnight.
thank you, for seeing me.
i wish i could feel your touch.
tell me you’re pleased.
If I had known this is what you were prepared to hear…
I would have.
Because now, I’m just scared.

*once broken, surrendering love is never easy, but then sometimes thats all there is, an existence arrives and so we do.

For Now

Ann finished with the dishes, even the dirty ones, left in the little sink, found just past the front door of the studio apartment she’d rented from Shelby.

Leaning up against the light green counter, while looking out towards the stove, she exhaled the breath she didn’t realize she was holding. Turns out moving is physically harder than she initially believed. 

Why had she?

Did it matter if the stove was clean or not? She didn’t feel like eating anyway.

Ann’s legs weakened. It was a slow slide down the narrow cubbard and onto the kitchen floor. 

None of this made sense anyway. It was all too soon.

The grey tile was cold. She laid against it for too long and woke up startled. Ann surprised herself by falling asleep, but the intensity of her dream caused her to jump. She straightened up into a sitting position, while her finger slowly traced the fresh indentions on her cheek.

 What time was it…

Just then a lone roach crawled past her and towards the sink.

Great.

It’s just me and him.

Me, him and his tiny little army in the back of the cubbard.

She quickly got off the floor and added bug spray, killer or annihilator to her list of things to pick up at the store, possibly, or maybe one day.

Ann fumbled into her bedroom, after cleaning the bathroom and sitting space, nearly tripping on the step required to enter. 

The door hit the wall behind it with a bang and Ann’s body shook. There wasn’t much room for her or anything else, but it would do. 

She was thankful Shelby had sent over new and laundered bedding before her arrival. Admittedly, there had been little time for anything else. 

She could handle living down the hall from a few roaches for now, but sleeping in dirty and used bedding would’ve only caused her further anxiety. Ann figured she’d cling to the bed’s cleanliness.

She focused on the purple and gold comforter covering the mattress . Was it designed for a tiny apartment bed like this or did the designer, who had carefully chosen the fabric and vision, imagine a grander setting?

She often wondered over people’s intentions. 

She watched her fingers comb down the side of the bed, as if not really present in the room. With her foot Ann slid the closet door shut.

Eying her suitcases on the dresser she decided her clothes could wait. Like almost everything else in her life.

Briefly considering, obviously reconciling an internal struggle not to sweep the dust away, and lacking the strength to look the reality of the room in the eye, she made the choice to forgo her bedroom responsibilities for now. 

Ann lifted the bottom window and scanned the view in front of her. 

A black dog ran sideways across the quiet street with a yelp.

“Get outta here,” an old woman grumbled, while wiping her hands on her apron.

Ann slowly shook her head and held back a giggle, as she watched the dog run back towards town. The woman mumbling something as she turned and headed back into her garden was a pleasant surprise.

Ann smiled. Might have been the first time in months. 

She’d go down and introduce herself to the feisty one next door soon. She pulled the curtains away from the window revealing twilight over the overgrown grassy hill in the distance. 

She leaned her forehead in slowly and placed the palm of her hands against the cool glass, as her body submitted to the weakness she couldn’t overcome.

This sure was a sleepy town. Not one car passed by in the five minutes her face was stuck to the window pane.

At least the outdoor surroundings brought comfort.

Suddenly, she heard a long howl. It sounded like an animal in pain, and was coming from the south. The cry brought back another familiar sound. 

Ann found herself walking towards the bed. Lost in recent events, obviously too painful to revisit, yet needing to forget, her body melting into the covers.

***

This is an old thought of mine from a few years back. Found it while searching for another story I’d written. 

Something about this one though…

Why writing of melancholy comforts me I’ll never know. I began this blog because my friends said I was funny and needed to share my humor. 

But my soul speaks differently.

What I’ve found is worth so much more. I’ve given myself. I’ve found me. And I’ll be.

Thank you for listening.

It is my hope light continues to shine it’s favor.