Hard Lessons

Discernment isn’t as simple
As the flip of a coin;
Whimsical in its submission to chance
Without hesitation
Or even consequence
And perhaps life would be more interesting
Maybe even a little more composed
If it were predicated on such whimsy
If we could easily determine another’s intentions
By the telling glint of heads or tails
Instead it’s left up to our own sense
To examine the smooth texture of others’ words
To test the true weight of their actions
Because it’s silly to trust every smile
Though I want to believe that all people are truly good
That their hearts beat with an effortless cadence
Echoing the fluidity
Of pure and well-meaning thoughts
Without a trace of malice tainting their veins
But I’ve seen the dual visage
Contoured in half-truths and lies
I’ve heard derision and its way of hollowing out
Kind words meant to convey concern
So how do I learn to extend grace
And still be kind
Without mirroring the disingenuous ways
Of those around me
Without leaving myself vulnerable
To the claws itching and ready to scratch viciously at my back?

12:40 AM

Restless thoughts

Scamper through weeded hedges

In blind pursuit

Of an antidote

That could soothe

Insomnia’s chaotic ricochet

And its palpable pressure

Like nails digging new wounds

Into the places

That never quite heal

So each breath

Feels more raw than the last

Cut upon the desperation

To find peace

And sink within the depths

Of a midnight lullaby

Staying Awake

A yawn stretches itself
From the inside out
Withholding tension
That sits crooked
Within the bones;
It’s the most peculiar sensation—
Wanting to exhale
The weight of lethargy
And its residual tangles
Yet it remains stuck
As if in a vacuum
Roaming with a palpable shift
Behind eyes
Already burning from the need
To drift closed
In a forbidden sleep
That only grows
With the momentum
Of an ebbing and flowing stillness–
Monotonous sighs of the day
That make it harder
To stay awake


An existence
Attached to pinprick perforations;
Blunted imprints and scabbed divots
Sealing off memories –
Dark figures roaming stone-walled chambers
Shrouded in the forgotten colors
Of adolescence
Masking itself
In nonchalant shades of grey
Because it’s better this way…
Distanced from the blemishes
Hid beneath long sleeves
And pretty fabrics
Without being fettered
To the ‘why’ they’re there
To touch them
With aloof interest
Without scratching beneath the skin
Of buried trauma
In unintended discovery
Unleashing agonies that bleed
Than every macabre hue
It’s better to remember nothing
Except these moments
As cherry blossoms
softly carpet the sunbaked asphalt…

Flummox – Weekend Writing Prompt #247

English was always performative for mother. She especially loved using big words in the most ordinary situations.

“How flummoxing!” 

“Just say confusing…?” 

“And that’s why your teacher says your essays are prosaic,” she sniffed. Inhaling deep, I left her in the kitchen.

I think I should give myself a good pat on the back for trying this one. Setting up the scene was a real head scratcher because of the word limit and the word was actually difficult.

Another great challenge courtesy of SammiCox! Happy Sunday to you all 💐

One Night Stand

As love escapes

The twilit tangles

Sweet dreams unfurl

To shatter on dawn’s

Gilded edge

He turns to find himself


Tangled sheets

Sillage of liquor

And sated lust

Stirring hazed recollections


With only stale tastes

Of passion

Stuck to the roof of his mouth

And a distant ebb and flow

Of heated promises

That never breached the shore

Of a fleeting infatuation

When Words aren’t Enough

Sometimes, words aren’t enough. She realizes this in his wan smile before he drains his glass to give her a perfunctory nod, grunting at the bitterness burning down his throat. He says nothing as idle conversations stray by their table and that’s when her words echo back to her. Like soulless drips collecting, rippling out into a void. And there’s nothing else to say because he’s heard it all before. So what do you do when words are all you have to give, even in their superfluity? She calls his name softly and reaches across the table, squeezing his hand.


A Midnight Wish

Mystery murmurs 
Low and resonant – 
Its strange cadence 
Plucks into the stillness 
Like a poltergeist;
Presence betrayed 
By shuddering walls 
And their heaving sighs 
As though burdened 
By tales they’d eagerly share 
If only they could talk 
But those stories remain 
Teasing whispers 
Behind wooden beams 
Where she wishes 
She could stuff her doubts 
For only a moment 
Of unbruised peace and quiet 

A Quiet Comfort

Like watching breath in motion 
The calligrapher inks the beginnings 
of a quiet soul 
Upon fine parchment; 
A soft inhale suspends itself 
Following his careful pause 
Then pools out – measured and slow 
As each brushstroke 
contours and connects 
to a heart of emotions 
that become tangible 
A lifeline immortalized 
For all the things 
Left unsaid; 
For the anxious thoughts 
Pressed between quivering lips 
Offering comfort 
To the ones 
Trapped within the tangles 
of their own mind 

Saunter – Weekend Writing Prompt #246

Her seduction of him was never intentional. She hadn’t caught his attention with flirtatious quips or a provocative gait.  It was in the breathy notes of her laughter. The citrus of her perfume that sauntered – unbidden – over his senses. In all her natural reactions that drew him to ask her name.  

SammiCox Weekend Writing Prompt
Happy Sunday everyone! So many weekend writing prompts passed me by, but I tried my best to make it for another one again. I hope you’re all doing well and as I settle back into a writing schedule, I hope to talk with you all once again.
Until then!