Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Poets.
Coming Around
She is out there. She is slowly killing my soul. I turn to her for comfort. She does not love me. I would dare to say that she did not care. I am tired of losing. I am tired of settling. Tired of her sick sense of truth. I can not take this. I will not accept this. Kharma killing me. I can not reject this. Fences unseen only to be revealed after the fact. Just got to stay away from you. Should not be hard without you being around. This is the part I hate. I am letting go of this. Kharma.
By john noakes7 years ago in Poets
Ground
Being with her was like walking barefoot on a gravel road. The rocks and bumps poke the bottom of my feet and lead me to walk carefully and lightly with every step. Doing my best to avoid the bigger bumps, bearing the pain of the smaller ones. But then, I found the sidewalk. I thought, this will be better, softer, flatter, more stable. I was able to walk normally, but only for a short time before the cracks began to trip me up, and the hot concrete began to burn. Then I started to walk quicker, in hopes that the faster my steps the less it would burn. But instead i was left with burns and scrapes on my feet from running on the concrete. I thought to myself, will i ever find something sturdy to plant myself on? Will i ever find my ground? And then the sidewalk ended, the road was a dead end, and all that was left was grass, wet with dew. I stepped into it, and the grass healed all the pain the road and sidewalk had caused. The soft blades of green grass gave my feet a thousand kisses. The dew eased the burns and cleaned the scrapes. And I'd found my ground.
By James Stevison7 years ago in Poets