Ive never been one to beg
For anyone to stay
But I asked so sincere
Please, I know we can work this out.
I’ve never been spiritual
But I pleaded with the universe
Hoping it would hear me somehow
All I want is a chance to fix this.
I’ve never been a dreamer
But I dream of you day and night
Grasping onto every formulated word you say.
It was when
I had already
lost you
That I’d realized I’ve never wanted anything more.
Yes.
Was all you said
And that was it
The end of it all.
1 word
3 simple letters
I’ve never cried at something less than that
I’ve never been hurt by something more.
About the Creator
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Funny
It's funny how easy love can turn to hate, as the branch snaps and your world spins while you fall to where you began, the cold floor reminds you of a home long lost, a place you thought you'd never see again. Winded as you land, the air was thinner where you used to be. Being down here feels like part of you is missing, yet you reminisce how complete you used to feel here. Up in the leaves with the one who said she'd stay, you realize that, that's where you felt the most complete, your whole you. You look in the mirror and all you see is the one thing you never wanted to be, the feeling itself sends you in a spiral within yourself as you realize this might be the outcome as many times as you try. You attempt to climb the tree over and over again, new people each time to help you on the way up, but you never make it far, the number of branches depleting each time you return to the cold void you call home. In each leave that comes down, matching you, you see a memory, a face, an old home that used to be yours.
By Joe klemmer2 years ago in Poets
Reaching Out
I promise her. I'd do anything for her. She's my mom. Even as Lanie and Deanna are flying home, Mom is scrappy fighting dying. She lays too still in that too-big bed with all the toasty white hospital blankets, in the south tower, at the broad end of a long slow-turning corner that delivers me again to her private room with the view she can't see through, with the beeping that tells us nothing new, and all these ice chips she can't swallow, and a flood of well-intentioned nurses who cannot do a damned thing all the same.
By Christy Munson5 days ago in Fiction
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