My great grandma called me today

She sounded normal

Yet, at the same time heartbroken

I know it was cuz of me

Cuz of the words left unspoken

She said she wishes me well

Wants me to call back soon

I feel really bad

I hate hearing her that way

Hearing her so sad

She's never wronged me

Like I have to so many others

I love her dearly

She loves me too

Shown by now very clearly

I will call her back soon

Maybe in a few days

When I don't have school

When I cant think straight

Without needing fuel

Good morning, Prosers,

It’s week forty-nine of the Prose Challenge of the Week! Last week saw you all writing your mini-manifestos. We had shed-loads of superb entries to read, so thank you everyone.

Before we find out which one of you takes the $100 prize, let’s take a look at this week’s prompt:

Prose Challenge of the Week #49: Use this sentence to inspire your piece of poetry or prose: We are all broken. The winner will be chosen based on a number of criteria, this includes: fire, form, and creative edge. Number of reads, bookmarks, and shares will also be taken into consideration. The winner will receive $100 and will be placed first on our Spotlight page and the runner-up will receive 1000 coins. When sharing to social media, please use the hashtag #ProseChallenge #getlit #itslit

Get writing, now.

From this point forward, the winner will not only receive $100, but they will also have their post Spotlighted. This means that anyone who visits theprose.com and isn’t logged in, will see your post first, before anyone else. So, make your words count. Not only this but we are now offering the person who comes in second place 1000 coins to buy some beautiful word porn! How about that for incentive to enter?

Back to the winner of week forty-eight. We have read all of your entries and thoroughly enjoyed every single one. There can only be one winner, however, and after much deliberation that winner is @PhynneBelle with their piece “an aspiration.” Congratulations to you, we will be in touch shortly to arrange transfer of your winnings!

That’s all for this week, here’s to a week filled with all things Prose!

Until next time, Prosers,

Prose.

Let's be honest:

Life is rough.

A cruel, harsh reality

Where the word

Fair

Doesn't exist.

I feel like

Sometimes

It's not worth it

to go on.

Yet I forget all my qualms

When I see a smile on

Your face.

When the embodiment

Of sincerity

Stands before me

How could I worry

About such worldly things?

Your smile

Your laughter

Your very existence

Are the cures to my woes.

Good times don't

Last forever.

Eventually

We will

Depart.

We'll reach the

Point

In our

Journey

Where we must

Diverge our

Paths.

But for now

We'll remember

All the times

We had

Together.

From all the

Ups

To all the downs.

From all the 

Smiles

To all the

Frowns.

These are the times

We will

Remember.

These are the times

That will

Last

Forever.

These bittersweet

Memories

Will live on in

Each of

us.

Though the days

Are

Dwindling

That does not

Mean

That this is the

End.

The future is

Bright

For

All of

Us.

We still have

Time

Together.

These are the

Precious Days

Of our

Youth.

These are the

Days

We cannot

Waste.

That means that

We must make haste

To join together

For one last

Hurrah.

Because these

Good times

Don't last

Forever.

We need to make

The most

Of these

Moments

Because after all

Time keeps flowing.

Fun times are

Bound to

End

That's what a

Classroom's

All about.

I thank you

All

For all the

Pieces

Of

Yourselves

That you've

Shared with

Me.

And as our

Time

Together

Comes to a close

One last time

I'd like to say

"Thank you"

I know you don't

Want to hear it

But it's true that often 

It's just you and me

Against the world

Or spiraling within

Its chaotic spin

But either way --

We speak our own language

And we had no choice 

Awareness collected us

From the delusional rubble

United in reason and 

With purposed perspective 

Extracted from the dust

To rise together above 

I know you don't

Want to hear it

But it's true that often 

It's just you and me 

The city went quiet

The minute you left

Its static movement 

Has no pulse 

And the people are holograms

From a species foreign to mine

And the landscape is empty

Like a portrait born 

From someone else's imagination

And the sky is stagnant 

With its weather crouched

And waiting to pounce

Everything tastes different 

And nothing is familiar 

And I am a ghost 

Counting the hours 

Like my glasses of wine

Until you return 

I chased after your image

Through bright meadows

And through dark storms

When I finally caught up

You turned to dust

And blew away

And I remembered:

You were gone.

he flinches in the light,

head down,

checking himself for sins

he might have missed

when he tried

to scrub the darkness away,

but his soul is frail

like butterfly wings,

and he opened holes

beneath the mist

he wears as skin,

shaped like the bristles

of whiskey and cigarette burns,

harsh like good intention

possessed by weakness.

but there is no door

in the cocoon

shaped for re-entry,

no wisp of nature's breath

that forms a current

back to the beginning,

no passage beneath the clock,

but he rises, knowing,

broken wings

can still glide home.