Crying
I remember crying softly, the welts were still fresh,
Coloured streaks of red and violet raised against my flesh.
I felt lost, alone, scared.
I needed someone to hold me but I felt abandoned.
Only the darkness in my room to keep me company.
My pain still haunts me, I find it hard to open up,
It's easier to hide behind my mask.
I wanted to say I'm scared, but I didn't know why.
I wanted to say I was afraid but I only cried instead.
I felt betrayed by her,
She never offered me comfort, she never said I cared.
Abused and worn, she broke me,
The man-child, too quickly, became the man.
I remember crying, softly...
The welts would scar over, the pain would hide itself away,
But, when I look at my children sleeping,
I remember the loneliness, the pain.
Maybe it still haunts me, in ways I will never understand,
But I offer them my love freely & every night I promise
That they will never cry of alone.
Curses to You Mr. Shakespeare
Curses to you Mr. Shakespeare...
When my words pale next to yours,
When I try to whisper I love you...
And I find myself in your shadow.
And I love her...
She has brought light...
To my endless night.
Reveals to me...
All that I had hope to be.
Of the romantic fool I hide...
Behind a mask of solitude.
Curses to you Mr. Shakespeare...
When I try to say I care...
My words seem distant, elsewhere...
The feelings never ring true.
And I love her,
Her gentle fire...
Inspires my soul.
Her softness so easy to hold,
Her heart my only gold.
Curses to you Mr. Shakespeare...
Never my words does she hear
Once Upon A Cyber Night
We kiss without touching,
My soul lingers
As it reaches for your heart
So afraid of alone I hold on tightly.
Too afraid to let go,
My fingers trace the outline
Of your eyes, your lips.
Gently kissing your heart & soul,
With all that my spirit may offer.
I feel your kisses across my chest,
My skin tingling,
My fingers dance with your hair.
Yes we touch without ever touching...
Somewhere in the nexus of time and space,
Somewhere deep within our soul,
And I feel your fingers press against my sides...
Your soft kisses on my chest...
And I tease your neck
With soft echoes of my passion...
Ecstasy beckons..., calling us by name.
Words slip away, promises for tomorrow...
Our bodies dancing to the music of our souls...
Yes we touch without touching...
Passion building on a coloured screen...
I close my eyes as you say good bye...,
As I turn off the monitor the echoes begin...
The loneliness and the fantasies...
But when we touch
The living be comes so easy....
The Last Straw
It was a dark and stormy night. Fred had retired to small apartment. It had been a long day and he all he wanted to do was collapse and fall asleep. However, his girlfriend Jane had other plans. She had been waiting in anticipation for weeks for the premiere of a new movie and Fred had agreed to take her. That was weeks ago, and Fred had completely forgotten about it even though Jane talked about it nonstop. The plot revolved around some romantic nonsense, but the male lead just happened to be Jane's celebrity crush, so there was no way she was going to miss it. Jane had sent several texts to make sure Fred was ready on time but despite her attempts to make this a reality, Fred had still forgotten. Since Jane had talked about this particular topic nonstop Fred had put any mention of it on ignore.
The bell of Ferd's door began to chime, indicating there was a visitor. Fred mustered all the strength he had left to get up from his collapsed state to answer the hail. Each step took conscious effort and when he finally reached the door and opened it, he saw an irate woman, dressed simply with her hands crossed over her chest. Like a whipped puppy, Fred knew he was in trouble. The irate woman looked over Fred disappointedly and her face turned to rage.
"Why aren't you ready?!" the woman screamed, "I've texted you all day. The movie starts in less than an hour! You know I've been waiting for weeks to see this movie." While there was anger on her face there was pleading in her eyes. Fred had let her down again. It seemed to be a recurring theme in their relationship. The thing that Jane was not sensitive to the fact that Fred worked long hours at a job that was sucking the life out of him and draining his energy.
"I'm sorry" Fred said halfheartedly, "I know you've been waiting for months to see this movie. I've had a long day, and I just can't make it."
"Well, if you can't make it, maybe I should find someone who can" She threatened and stormed off before Fred could muster a reply. After Jane had disappeared down the stairs. Fred closed the door and made the painful march to bed. Soon Fred was fast asleep.
The next morning, Fred woke up to a text from June which indicated that was the last straw and that she wasn't taking it anymore, their relationship was now defunct. Fred did not respond. There was no need. Fred felt a weight life off his shoulders. It was one less thing he had to worry about. When he first got together with June it was exciting, but time has a way of making the exciting mundane and that's what time did to Fred. He didn't need June reminding him of what a pathetic loser he was. He was doing the best he could. if his best wasn't good enough, it wasn't good enough. No amount of verbal shaming was going to change that. He didn't hate June, in fact he understood why she did it and he didn't hold that against her.
The next day passed and Fred had still not returned June's text. In Fred's mind, the relationship was really over and there was nothing that really needed to be said about it. It was true that he would miss her for a while, but time would also take care of that and cause him not to think of her at all.
On the third day Fred got a text from June. "Is that it? you have nothing to say to me?" was how the text went. Fred wasn't sure how or if he should answer this text. He decided the direct approach was best and he answered it like this.
"No. You said it was over. So, it's over." It was direct and to the point. Fred got a follow up text.
"So, you're just going to accept it. If you really cared about me, you would have begged me to take you back, but I guess you really don't care. Maybe you never did."
June didn't really want to break up, what she wanted was for Fred to crawl back on his hands and knees and beg her not to leave him. Fred could feel himself being sucked into compliance. He knew that she was employing a manipulation tactic to gain the control she had felt she had lost in the relationship, but the thing is, she was right. Fred didn't care anymore. He did care once, but not now.
"Goodbye" was his one-word response. Although Fred could only speculate, June cried when she read the one-word text. Her manipulations had backfired, and she only had herself to blame for it. Although she tried texting Fred a dozen times, he refused to reply to any of them. He was really gone, and she would have to start over with someone new. All the time and energy spent was wasted.
Fred decided to concentrate on himself. When he had a better job and more time to devote to someone, he would try again with someone new but until then, he would shun intimacies with women.
My dog, My best friend
In every stride, my dog, a loyal friend by my side,
Through valleys low and mountains wide and high.
With eyes that gleam, a heart so true,
My faithful companion, forever anew.
In the fields of green, we chase the day,
With laughter echoing, as we play.
Through trials faced, in life's great race,
Your unwavering love, a saving grace.
Through storms, we weather, hand in paw,
In the darkest nights, you are my awe.
No judgment cast, no words to speak,
Yet your presence is strong, never weak.
In quiet moments, you sense my soul,
In your embrace, I find my role.
With every wag, a tail to tell,
Of friendship pure, that rings a bell.
Man's best friend, in you I find,
A bond unbroken, one of a kind.
Through thick and thin, till the end,
Forever cherished, my loyal friend.
We’re Prose
Here is my folder, the space I need. Although it's not tucked into a locker or on a forgettable shelf. Always active and moving and reading and writing. The things that I love about life. And you never cross the same stuff twice unless you're really looking for it all over again.
Few people understand the notion of fake worlds you create and destroy. Nobody has the perfect imagination, but I like mine. Full of fun, horrors, villains and anything I really want. It's not really an outlet, because outlets take it and don't give anything back. Once you put something in it you can see it, but you don't get anything back from it.
I don't really have a word for it, but I do know one thing. That every time I put something in it, I get a lot more back. Comments that help succeed, likes that show love from other people who actually understand the books, and notifications( Which are annoying me because I cannot figure out how to delete old ones) that show what we need.
Prose are people who have awesome ideas based upon other things. Every challenge I enter is another fun world that I want to explore and write about. Every time I write, honestly I cannot help but to write more than one because I write one and then an idea is like, ohhh, look this'll be fun, it'll contrast.
Everytime that I look into this website I prepare myself for hours worth of reading, and a couple minutes of writing the first thing and then branching out. It's crazy what we do, how we do things. We do things like no other people, because we're the prose.
Mama Burns on Her Funeral Pyre
Mama, grown old and gray
cries almost every day.
Nothing she can do or say
her children now hold sway.
It is they who suffer now
there’s no more earth to plow,
no more seeds to sow,
and no more food to grow.
Mama burns on her funeral pyre;
her children face eternal fire.
Save them from perdition:
stop adding fuel to the fire!
The toll is evident now.
They need to survive, but how?
Will they beg divine intervention
or reform their harmful intentions?
Technology Goddess/Sorceress
Growing up,
technology was a goddess,
so much loved and praised
for all the things she could do.
She washed and dried our clothes
and did the dishes too!
She kept our food from spoiling
and cleaned the carpets anew.
She awed us with electricity.
Every day we expected something new.
But a goddess she ceased to be
when she turned to digital sorcery.
We woke up one day, gasping in despair.
Facilitating hate mail, fraud,
disinformation and fear,
a scourge she became everywhere.
In her goddess days,
she freed us from drudgery.
In her witching ways,
she enslaves us with grudgery.
Betraying our trust,
a digital dopamine curse
she unleashed upon the pure.
Awe has turned to fear!
Mirrors of My Life
How tiny they used to be,
back then in their nursery.
Then time just flew.
They had things to do,
And I had work to attend to.
When they went away,
the house felt cold and grey.
The years passed, as they always do,
and now they have happy homes too.
When they visit, occasionally,
we talk, laugh and bicker too.
One such day, I saw in them,
reflections of someone I knew.
That day, I felt love and pain
simultaneously,
for as different as they are,
in each of them lay
the spectre of the loved one
who preceded me.
Emerald Lounge Code
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And, as aways...
Thank you for being here.
-The Prose. team