The dirty stained glass doors slid
Early this morning
I breathe in the moisture air
Before the sun and I shared our
Shine
Leaving each other with kisses
Oh my, what a time
I observe the sounds of the planes
I observe the windy texture
I observe the leaves falling
Plopping down in my one spot
The pool is just a few feet
from my peripheral
My neighbors literally below
On the sides of me
5th floor, those damn stairs but I’m grateful
Y’all girl over here growing a booty
So sometimes it’s beneficial
But that’s not all,
I’m just getting started
I promise this is one that doesn’t need to be prepared
come inside
This is “the apartment” we share
About the Creator
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Blizzard
The sun’s warm rays brightly shine on a cold evening. The snow is just dwindling down as winter retreats from its peak. The kids are getting ready to come inside with their father right behind. The precious joy I feel in my soul. I am so glad I found my home. I look over at the frozen pond from across the way. I stare into the outer layers of ice, and I have these intriguing thoughts. I look down for a moment and somehow, I am standing on the pond. I look below my feet and I see a different me. As I stare to get a closer peak, I realize the ice wasn’t as sturdy as I thought it would be. I drop into the pond but there isn’t a splash. A roller coaster thrill with quietness attached; as I fell into my other half. I stand up and I look around my surroundings, nothing has changed. I realize maybe I had just slipped but I’m standing; so, I know it wasn’t a false reaction that I had just encountered. I’m telling you I know what I felt. I look over and I see my home. I slowly walk across the pond to get back to the solid ground. I look ahead and I see my husband standing there. I wave from a distance to signal him to come over, but his posture is just as mute as the sounds in the air. As if, as if, he is frozen within time. That or maybe he just doesn’t see me, but we live right across the way. He can see me. I think to myself “maybe I’m crazy but I don’t see movement, not even an inch”. As I cross the street, an eerie but familiar breeze stops me in my tracks. “What’s that phrase?” I question myself. “Déjà vu” is what the breeze softly whispered onto my skin. I quickly pace myself across the street. “Oh, hell nah” my conscious loudly yells. As I reached onto my lawn. My heart drops as I look over and my husband is still in the same position, he was when I was across the street. My motherly instincts went inside the house yelling my children names. Silence is what has settled upon ears. The rooms are empty. The house is creaking. Where are my children? Where are my children? I go back outside and stand in front of my husband and his eyes are fixated on a sight. I look to where he is looking and all I see is the frozen pond. I’m not home. I’m not where I belong. The breeze loudly whispers “fears”. I shiver this time. The unsettling words click on realization. Realization of loneliness. As I put it together, I start to comprehend it’s not possible. Not even a little bit. The frozen pond could have not done this, but it did. I run back to the pond and stop right by the edge. I said “Fuck, I have to be rational about this.” Then again, do I really have to be? I want to plan this strategically but I feel like I’m competing with something beyond my own logic at this moment. I scurry back inside to figure out what exactly is happening to me. I sit down on the couch with my head hanging low. My eyes fixated on the unpolished wooden floors. I’m staring blankly into my conscious trying to see if something might come out of hiding. “Sigh” I heavily puffed in exhaustion as my brain overloads on the overthinking. As I slumped back onto the couch, my eyes quickly adjusted to the coffee table in front of me. I see a picture flipped over on the table. My stomach drops as something creeped up in my body leaving goosebumps on my soul. I hesitate to pick it up, but I know its my answer to getting out of this place. Whatever this is. I flip over the picture and gasped. My thoughts quickly process a fear that I removed years before. Or, so I had thought. Somehow, I am living it for real. I get up and slowly walk to the front door. I open it and realize my way of getting out of this place. The End.
By Myah Williams3 years ago in Fiction
Two Pink Lines
I had never really felt like a child. I'd always had to raise myself. My mother was just a teenager when she'd had me and consequently, we had spent my whole childhood arguing and fighting like a couple of sisters as opposed to mother and daughter. My father was older than my mother but still had some maturing to do himself. He focused his entire life on me, his little girl but never realized the pressure that put on me. I always felt I had to raise him even as he was trying to raise me. We raised each other. Then, I met him. He cares, he shows me a love like I've never known. For once, it's about me and I don't have to focus on other people's needs and what someone needs from me. Someone always wants something from you. That is what my parents have taught me. Love is selfish but it isn't with him. He is perfect, beautiful, funny, and can take me to places I've only dreamed about. Places outside my mind and my own pathetic life and I know that I will always love him. When we first met, I wanted him to have my children, but now? Right now, with us both still in high school? This is all happening so soon. I slipped into the restroom at work. It had been 6 weeks since my last menstrual and this was not normal. I couldn't wait any longer. I put the top on the test and waited. These 60 seconds felt like forever. What would we do? We were both seniors so we didn't have long to go before school was over but this was not the plan. The plan was for him to join the Army and me the National Guard and for me to get my associate's degree and then we marry, then have kids.
By Lindsey Altom4 days ago in Fiction
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