A Letter to the Lesser-Known
To the Prosers,
Throughout my scrollings, I often read works that simply sweep me off my feet with their mad beauty. The story could be perfect, quality grammar, outstanding storyline, pleasant to read, fantastic wording, etc. etc. - - - but the post has no likes! It's been up for a while! No one is seeing it!
So I'd merely like to acknowledge those unsung works here - and encourage any author lacking a number of likes they can count on both hands. Don't give up! Keep sharing your beautiful stories. We'll all love them, perservere in getting your name known.
That's all I have to say.
Sincerely,
Cotton
a mother’s love
my dear children
the loves of my life
i do not have a lot to give this Christmas
for it has been the toughest year
but i will give you this
my warm arms
to make you feel safe and secure
my strong hands
to make you delicious food
and nurture your little belly's
my loving heart
that sees all of the good in you
my soft words
to reassure you that everything will be alright
i do not have a lot to give this Christmas
but i do give you
all of my
love
She has the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen, but I rarely see it. She kisses with eyes open because she doesn’t trust enough to close them, always pulling away too soon. I reach for her hands, but she keeps them over her heart, placed delicately on her collarbones like I might bruise them if she lets go. She holds her breath when she loves a song, floating above the world in the passenger seat of my car. And I want to reach out and touch her, weightless, but it would break the trance. She has the prettiest smile I’ve ever seen, but she rarely smiles at me.
Lost In Sadness...
Sadly, I am waiting for the One who can set me free--
The time passes slowly, and I decide to plant a tree.
In spring it'd surely grow, but it is always winter here in me--
I watch the dead ground dry until it blurrs too much to see...
I try again, desperately, to will my seed to grow--
But still it is smothered by the layers of my snow.
The snow presses down upon me, and I've reached my lowest low--
And now I'm trapped in it's coldness, and noone even knows...
My fun-eral
I want my death to be celebrated.
My life to be remembered.
Memories of me to be shared and enjoyed.
At my funeral, I want pop music, I want 80 music, I want David Bowie music videos playing incessantly.
Crying will not be tolerated...
Crying might happen, sadness can be felt, but I don’t want people to dwell or spiral down into their own sad spells.
Death is inevitable.
Every moment in life is also imminent.
To enjoy, to love, to feel content or even happy...that takes conscientious choice.
My life has been filled and drowned by sadness and depression and regrets but at some point you get to this place where you find it all so absurd.
Sure living is suffering but it is also gratifying.
We can focus on the fact that the world is overrun by corruption, hatred, greed and Lucifer’s hypocrisy or we can see what we want to see what we choose to see instead of seeing Satan’s imagery in t.v., movies and advertising...I want to be like Michael and see God reflected in a child’s face.
When I die and when I am gone, I will feel happy. And I hope that others will feel happy for me, happy to have known me, and happy when they think of me.
Dying is really just like getting to the finish line before others, so for me it will be like winning.
And there I shall wait for you to meet me and greet me as if it were just yesterday when I last saw you and you last saw me.
Little One
I know a secret.
You keep it locked inside of you.
Your heart’s out here in the open, but there is one part that you keep well hidden.
There is an explosive light.
I may be fiery reds, pinks, and blues, but you are surely rose skies and rivers of champagne.
I wear that fire on the outside.
But you have a fire there too.
Stronger than any that rages from my broken insides.
You have a pale yellow outlined in a burning, bright gold.
A warmth of protection.
Hidden deep inside you.
It’s enveloped me.
And I swim in your liquid sun.