Monthly Archives: January 2014

1-28-14 Micropoetry

Favorite #micropoetry of the night, including mine, of course…

Just because
I’m not sitting around
Waiting for you to call…
Doesn’t mean I’m not.
#micropoetry #disappointment

Can I just tell you that I love you,
And be done with it already?
I know it won’t mean much,
Except to me…
#micropoetry #whining

Don’t trust my “=P” and “lol,”
Sometimes my emotes lie.
I may be laughing to you, when,
On my side of the screen,
I just want to cry.

I’m in a fine mood
Passion’s brood

When others
I should be

Not a poem, but I liked it:

We sit across from each other
Letters dancind in our eyes
Oblivious to the miles between us
Two screens
Two Dreams
One reality

All our broken pieces
For our hearts were like
Rocks and shells on the beach.
Beautiful and broken.

Part of your soul
Is holding hands with mine
High above
Nestled in clouds.

Again, not poetry, or is it?
When I see you…

He gives me the love you won’t.
I can’t give him the love he wants.
It’s not a perfect world.
We all have our boundaries.

Lacerating words
I’d rather have razors
Slice my flesh
Than suffer the pain
You inflict with your tongue
#tanka #micropoetry

Thanks for the retweets
Of mine and others
Your appreciation
Is deeply appreciated.

Every time I think of you it’s like the last beat of my heart
The memory of leaving you is tearing me apart

Our of their love grew
A trust that allowed her to
Fall knowing with certainty
He would catch her

I know I’ve missed some, a lot I’m sure!  But ❤ to all the poets.  I guess maybe I’m one?  =)

Writing, Again

These stories I posted in my previous blog, now lost in the Bermuda Triangle of “posts that came before.”  Please to enjoy, or not.


The Bus

The wind was bitter cold. Her cheeks burned, blazing a painful red. She tucked her chin into the collar of her coat, her breath steaming. She stepped carefully down the un-shoveled sidewalk, her entire body clenching in on itself in a futile effort to stay warm.

A part of her welcomed the cold. There was something sadly ironic about piling on thermals, sweaters, coats hats gloves and scarves – and still feeling the bite of wind down to her bones. No matter how she guarded, shielded herself, there was always cold. Always pain.

Her eyes glued to the beaten path before her. To her feet as they trudged on. She wished she had a good pair of boots; the Airwalks she wore were only a year old, but the thick rubberized fabric was already tearing, pulling away from the sole. He feet would be wet and cold all day. She’d stop in at the thrift store, but boots were hard to find. Everyone needed them – they sold as quickly as they were brought in.

Her eyes filled suddenly, and she gave a strong sniff, shaking her head. The last thing she needed was to be crying as she walked down the street. Not only would it be embarrassing to be seen in that state, but the tears would cloud her eyes, and she could step wrong, not seeing a patch of ice or a huge shard of broken glass (why did people feel the need to throw bottles onto sidewalks?). Then she’d be on her ass, crying and hurt with twisted ankle or deep cut. Why add to her problems?

She reached the bus stop without incident. And with ten minutes still to wait. She’d missed enough buses to know that it would be better to pace the corner for a few minutes than to face the decision to walk back home, knowing she’d have to make the trek again. So she paced, walking circles around a guard railing. She pulled her phone from her pocket to check the time. Eight minutes till the bus. Six minutes. Five.

She tried not to think, of anything. Being idle was cruelly anxious. Waiting was torture. Her mind wanted to wander, to touch on those random ideas that made pain flicker inside her, electric. She looked again at her phone. Three minutes. That was good. Maybe the bus would be early.

Traffic blew by her as she raised her eyes to the corner the bus would turn down. She felt embarrassed and exposed standing on the corner. She pulled her coat tighter around her. Her hands were clenched in her pockets, her toes curled in her shoes. Her hat – an old black knit Adidas cap – was pulled down just below her eyebrows, almost too low for her to see. She bounced on the balls of her feet, willing the bus to appear.

Finally! The white and blue monster grumbled around the corner, trailing a steam of exhaust. She groped in her jeans pocket for her bus money. She should really just buy a pass for convenience sake, but she somehow felt the physical presence of the dollar and quarter reassuring. She kicked the snow for her shoes before stepping up the blue treaded stairs. The bus hissed with heat, making her hands and feet ache with excruciating relief. After slipping her fare in the box, she settled into a middle seat. The bus roared, shook, and trundled down the busy street.

Brown eyes, shimmering slightly, took in the scene as it passed by the window. The dirty looking shops, the shoddy little houses. The gas station she was surprised still remained opened, after having been the site of so much violence over the years. The Walgreens she would walk to on days when she just needed to walk somewhere. Her whole life had been lived in this run-down part of town. She wondered if she’d ever escape it. If she even wanted to.

She closed her mind to the thought. Her eyes glazed over as she shut down. Enjoying the warmth of the bus, the satisfaction of being out in the world. The fear of being out in the world, however briefly. Maybe today, she’d smile at someone, and they’d smile back. They’d talk. They’d laugh.  And that would be good. That would be good enough for today.

She smiled, and it hurt her wind-burnt cheeks.


The Pain

Her heart ached. Literally.

The intensity of the feeling was so powerful, a physical blow that knocked her to her knees. She didn’t understand, couldn’t comprehend the feeling – the gnawing, burning pain in her chest. Her hands went to the spot, eyes wide as she looked down. She half expected to see blood seeping through her shirt, staining her hands.

Her confusion added to the pain, and she doubled over, gasping. A shudder passed through her, chilling her even as her chest caught fire, exploding. Freezing, shivering while she burned with agony.

The fire found her face, her eyes, and they stung bitterly as they filled. At once, a dam burst, and she buried her face in her hands as tears poured from her. Sobs wrenched her body. From head to toe she burned hot and cold. Her muscles clenched uncontrollably, locking her into a tortured caricature of a human being.

She felt she couldn’t breathe, the pain was too great, her cries too overpowering. She gasped, and the feeling of drawing a breath made her throat raw. She coughed, then gagged. It was all too much. The tears pouring from her eyes, the seeping of her nose, the incredible pain in her chest.

What was this? If this was heartache, heartbreak, she hadn’t though it would be anything this physical. Her body convulsed, and fresh sobs poured anew. Uncontrollable. Every nerve in her body sizzled. Her veins throbbed with the maddening, wrenching beat of her heart.

Kneeling on the floor, her stomach clenched then turned. Acid boiled up her throat. She reached around blindly, finding a nearby trash-can and dragging it over just in time to empty her stomach. A blinding pain seared around her midsection as she heaved repeatedly. Dry retches followed, and coughs that tore at her throat. She moaned, her head hanging, the smell of vomit and bile burning her nose.

She collapsed onto her side, drained and exhausted. The tears, never ending, leaked across the bridge of her nose, pooling in the cup of her ear before spilling and soaking into the carpet beneath her. A feeling of heaviness settled over her like a concrete blanket. Like a lead casing. The fire still burned in her chest, but it had reduced from an all-out inferno the the dull steady heat of a blacksmith’s forge. She closed her eyes, wanting nothing more than an end.

She awoke hours later, maybe days. Laying prone on the cold floor, every muscle cramped and sore. Her eyes felt thick and gummy, eyelashes clinging to each other with every blink. The room was dark, night had fallen, and she somehow felt relieved by the company of shadows.

Slowly she sat up, propping herself on one arm. Her hand rubbed roughly at her eyes, grinding the salt crust from them; wiping her hand down her face, grimy from all the tears. Looking around the grey-shaded room, she felt dazed, disconnected. She felt strangely calm, and utterly empty.

Shakily, she got to her feet. She just stood there, unsure of what her next action should be. She felt like a robot whose programming had been wiped. The irony lifted the corner of her mouth – the slightest movement – before disappearing beneath a wave of vacuity.

She was vaguely aware of the sick smell in the room, and mechanically set to emptying the trash, opening a window, and setting her apartment to rights. Collecting the cell phone she’d dropped after receiving the call, setting it into its changer. Sweeping the contents of her purse back into the leather bag: her keys, lipgloss, a hand-full of loose change, a wallet open to a picture of a striking man with auburn hair and laughing hazel eyes.

Alone in the darkness, the quiet, she wondered briefly if a heart could grow back. After being so thoroughly removed. The thought passed.

Pretend – Voice

Wish you were that kind.
That you stalked my every line.
Looking for yourself.

Wish I was the one,
Your all encompassing sun.
Revolve around me?

You don’t have the time.
No, your passion surmounts mine!
And I am eclipsed…

It’s not meant to be.
It is obvious to me.
Please, pretend you’re mine?

Flames; Haiku

Few words were exchanged,
Yet enough to spark a flame,
“trespass sweetly urged!”

Notwithstanding doubt,
Desire will always win out.
Flames turn to a blaze.

Heat engulfs, swallows,
Fills the aching emptiness.
Searing with relief.

A wildfire builds, boils,
Tongues of flame caress and writhe.
Torrid heat mounts, swells…

Conflagration reached!
Brilliant sparks shatter the night!
A roaring release!

Flames recede in waves.
Quiet, blissful aftermath.
Coals still burning bright.

Until that next Good Night.


I am so heavily addicted to your words.  When they are directed towards me I feel this swell of passion, compassion, longing and love. Directed towards others and I feel a twinge of pain, but pride.  I hate sharing your words, I want them all to myself.  I want to bury myself in every thought you have, every nuance of every sentence.  Oh, and yet – I want to see your words fly.  I want them to reach the corners of the world and come back to you, homing pigeons sending your love and comfort, and bringing you back all the assurances I can not give you.

My words seem so small next to yours.  My words are fragile where yours are strong!  My words are meaningless where yours are iron-clad.  Your words create change, change lives.  Your words changed mine!

I wish my words were enough for you.  I wish my words meant more to you.

I wish my words could change your life.  They try.


And now, even my words are addicted to yours.

Loneliness In Around 214 Words


WOL In Around 214 Words

WOL In Around 214 Words


And I’d just gotten started.


Made with Wordle, which was cooler when everyone used HTML.

Tonight Sucks

New Years Eve is one of my least favorite holidays.  Hell, what am I saying.  I pretty much hate them all.


For some reason, I’m feeling especially alone tonight.  Maybe it’s the time zones?  My closest friends celebrated an hour earlier than me, so when midnight rolled around, my time, I just took a swig of my ice cold Natty Ice and continued putting my stupid puzzle together.  No well wishers for me.  Even my brother was asleep.


I don’t think I’ve ever gotten one of those romantic New Years Eve kisses.  I’ve had a dozen boyfriends, a couple of them serious, but for whatever reason, no.  It seems silly to long for that.  That one moment, in an entire year.  Silly, that it really bums me out every year.  Oh, wait, there was Aki.  That was… 10 years ago now, I think.  Yeah.  By the time New Years came along, I was eagerly anticipating him leaving.  =/


I’m being stupid.  Just feeling lonely and low.  I want to send Lonnie a New Years message, but I promised myself I wouldn’t contact him.  I wonder how he’s doing.  I remember our first kiss.  It was…  Damn, it was good, and fun, and awesome.  No lies, I miss him.  Stupid crazy miss him.  But I can’t go there.  No good.


So here I sit, the beginning of a new year, and I’m feeling sorry for myself.  No guy to kiss, no friends to celebrate with.  Wtf is worth celebrating anyway?  What, we survived another 365 days?  Yay, it’s day 1 again?  That’s really a “clean start”?  It’s really just another day.  Night falls, and in the morning the sun will rise.  What’s so fucking special about that…


I’m sorry.  I’m being bitter.  I’m wallowing…  It’s really been a miserable past couple of weeks, and tonight…  Tonight just sucks.

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𝙳𝚛𝚎𝚊𝚖 𝚋𝚒𝚐! 𝙻𝚒𝚟𝚎 𝚋𝚒𝚐𝚐𝚎𝚛!


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