There are so many newbies now! I think I'm kinda an OG? I have been on Prose for five or six years. I actually found it because of FastWeb when I was a junior or senior in high school because I wanted to make money from writing which I have literally NEVER learned how to do. Still don't know how to do it honestly? Anywho, I'm AJ. I'm a 22-year-old American that really likes cheese and is attracted to disappointment. I'm in college in my last semester, and I am crawling to the finish line like that poor daddy's long leg that was left a septipelgic when I pulled off 7 of his legs. I promise I'm not still that evil. I'm far too tired to do anything chaotic except shake Monster cans in Giant Eagle and give squirrels political advice.

I honestly am not online much anymore just because this whole adulting shit is exhausting. But, in the event that you peruse through the literal hundreds of entries I've made, you'll see that I like to do experimental work and that I love fantasy, sci-fi, and basically anything that makes you think. My favourite post on here is actually my story "Something for Lilo" (trigger warning: abortion) so, yeah. I think it represents me a lot as a writer. nowadays I'm kinda balancing all these huge ideas like ideas of religion and philosophy and science and politics, and even though it's like a mental marathon (and I do NOT run), I know that once I get time to start writing again, it's going to really shape my writing in ways that I can't wait to see.

What else can be said? I don't like the beach or mountains, both thanks to family reunions. I'm lowkey afraid of elephants and whales because I'm small and they can pretty easily kill me. Belugas are beautiful. I study biology. My favourite colours are lavender, grey, black, rainbow, and yellow in that order, and I was yesterday years old when I found out that you can put sparkles in alcohol (and today years old when I realized that it's just glitter and you will be up at all hours of the night). What's the difference between grey and gray? Only Grammarly knows apparently.

For anyone that read this, thanks for reading and to the person that made this challenge, thanks for making it! It's always fun to reach out to new Prosers and I really love the tradition we have here of getting people to talk to each other and get to know each other.

Caving.

Typing...

Thinking...

Sighing.

Trying.

Typing...

Typing...

Typing...

Stopping.

Tapping.

Sniffling

Biting.

Typing...

Closing.

Opening.

Debating.

Thinking...

Smiling,

blushing

hiding...

Groaning.

Typing.

Sending.

Waiting.

Regretting.

Deleting.

Swearing.

Berating.

Retyping,

Ignoring.

Resending.

Waiting.

all of our lives together

10 months

a day

or just 5 minutes

doesn't matter really,

as long as I get to spend that time with you

Today I tell you that I fear I am a puzzle piece that cannot fit into your life

My corner too worn from poor friction trying so hard to contort, fit into arms that never wanted to hold me

Your eyes hold mirth and guile and laughter

Pointing to the fitted sheet falling off my bed

One corner making a break for it

And we fix it nightly, patiently

We leave the fitted sheets unfolded, the puzzles unfinished,

And sometimes when we kiss, our noses bump into each other

And we laugh.

Ten paws in ink,

one tat per cat,

ascend her arm like

carpeted platforms on

each of her walls or

veterinary bills.

We choose our lives, you see,

our selves and purposes and loves.

The little orange stray

poked a curious nose on

her porch, so she

fed him and loved him as

long as she could.

She chose to be

angel of cats.

I recently completed a volume of 100 poems written over the course of a couple of years. I found a love of poetry in all forms, exploring my inner thoughts as a woman and responding to prompts from Prose and several other sources. I have the book on two sites,

https://www.inkitt.com/stories/poetry/532012/chapters/1

https://www.wattpad.com/905796400-inner-woman-dream-catcher

I never thought poetry would be such a deeply emotional release for me. I hope anyone who reads these poems is touched by them as I was as I created them.

PS: Volume 2 is on the way.

they never tell you how a heart breaks,

the way the blood starts dripping down.

because if I’d have known the pain,

i would never had stayed around. 

I see the parts of you too often,

in someone’s smile or the way they talk,

and my thoughts come back to you,

like hands on a midnight clock.

you see, I think I hear your voice,

behind every corner that I turn, 

so you can imagine the shattering pieces,

when it’s your laugh i beg to unlearn.

they never tell you how a heart breaks,

the way my heart starts beating blue

suffocated by my swollen fingers,

which held on so tight to you. 

I ran to distant corners,

to forget our fantazised dreams,

but now I see them in hollow mirrors,

and hear your whispers as ehoing screams.

it brought me to my knees,

when I passed a stranger along the way,

who smelled of your faint whiskey,

putting our favorite songs on replay.

they never tell you how a heart breaks,

or how its dies alone,

forgotten by past heartaches,

with no one to call it’s own.

So i guess that was a lie, 

because if I got to chose once more,

I’d choose you a hundred times,

to fix the heart you tore.

But here I am now,

in this strange and unknown land,

and I wish on the stars for you,

for one last adventure to go unplanned. 

so I hope you think of me,

and see me in everything you do

I think we’re stuck in a twisted mirror

because everywhere I look, there’s you.

#prose #poetry #poet

There are beautiful things in the sadness,

else why does woe, woe and ever mourning

and sounds of a boys' choir sting and stab

at unseen wounds, known but forgotten?

a gate opens, and music, birdsong,

we were never warriors the way we should have been

but this is our Valhalla; we enter like the gods

who never paid for the walls, who never feel

the bite of iron in the back, just the dampness

of the blood and

leave the gates open behind, because whatever

could hurt us now

but each other?

It is always twilight, the edges of things are always obscure;

there is a shape, indistinct, on all sides, above and below;

the edges we don't see

cut

so softly

I thought it was a kiss;

when it was over the heat lingered

like my name on a breath

exhaled in the cold night, drifting up toward the moon.

Dissipating, finally gone, high above the roofs,

drifting over walls,

through leaves, like a memory finally released,

turning sparkling folding over itself,

and the bells ring in the morning and the birds leap from the branches

and the sky is high and the rich shall have their ice in summer

and the poor shall have their ice in winter

and the water will flow over and over and on

and they will close the gates

and say themselves, yea at last we are free at last we know solace

and then and then-

I'm okay with not always being beautiful

It took me years to reach a place where I feel comfortable knowing not everyone sees something worthy in me. I no longer feel defined by the desire that others do or do not feel for me. I don't know exactly when it changed but it did. I changed. And I am better because of it. The majority of my years I have spent starving for certain attention because without it I felt myself fade into nothing. I felt every flaw from head to toe magnified to the point that it consumed me - every inch of me, of my identity, of my worth, of my being. Maybe being alive long enough and having lived through so much has finally allowed me to settle into myself. For better or worse, this is who I am. I've spent enough time inside these lines to know there is a certain goodness within me. Within my truest heart and truest soul. A uniqueness that is made up of my courage to love unconditionally no matter who or what the circumstances may be. With it, I have learned to trust myself - even when I do not trust others. I have learned to love the person that I am. I have come to accept myself as a whole rather then accepting only the parts of me that others seemed to like. I am truly beautiful.. because I am kind. Because I am deeply caring. Because I am passionately loving. Because I am capable of forgiving. I am truly beautiful.. because I feel so entirely. Because I trust so overwhelmingly. Because I believe so undoubtedly. I am no longer paralyized by the way it feels to not be seen. To not be needed or wanted. To not be noticed. Instead I am comforted by the way it feels to be true. True to myself and the person that I am. The woman that I am becomming. The human being that I will always be.