Posted in Word Prompt

Lost

I am lost
In myself,
In oceans
Of your touch,
Memories
Of your lips
Slip
From my fingers
Crashing to the floor
Like plates
On the night
You didn’t make it back.
Or pictures,
Frames ready
For our wedding,
An aisle
We never made it down.
Beyond
You and I
There’s a plan.
Why else
Would we still
Get lost
In one another’s eyes.

Posted in Word Prompt

Cotton on the Breeze

Fabric

Picture book pages flip in the wind,
Like flimsy fabric ripping against the trees.
These memories fall victim,
Pictures of life we may never see again.
They fly from our fingers much too fast.
If I’m unable to grasp
The color of your eyes
Or gentle waves in your hair …
If your fingers slip from mine
Before I can feel them slide
Along my sides …
If these memories begin to evade,
Should they slide away like cotton in the breeze …
Let me tell you before they’re gone,
Just one more time.

Posted in stream of consciousness

Aqui.

It’s that time again!

Prompt – Present

Music – Pete Rock – Petestrumentals

Are you present?

Aqui.

Are we ever really?

This week has me wondering when the last time I really sat down and chose to be present in the moment was.

And what did it teach me?

Have you ever tried it?

Through meditation?

The hardest thing about meditation for me at first was clearing my mind.

It’s amazing how hard that can be.

We all have moments where we zone out and I guess sometimes we like to think of that as clearing the mind but it’s not really is it?

In my case I’m zoning out because there’s something very much there, standing heavy on my mind.

Definitely not clear.

I remember one of the techniques I learned was to think in images, not words, then clear those images away.

Put them away into boxes or whatever so that you can clear that space in your mind.

Do you know how hard it is to make a conscious effort to think without words?

It’s harder than you’d imagine it’d be.

Once you get better at it you’re supposed to be able to take this practice into daily life.

You can meditate while doing the most under appreciated things like walking or eating …

Concentrate on your step, how your foot hits the ground and moves you forward.

Do you really want to move forward?

What are you walking away from?

Towards?

What about your food, what does it taste like?

Hopefully not cheap corrugated plastic.

Do you remember the eyes of the person you love?

The exact way the colors of their iris flow into each other?

Or the way their eyes squint and the skin creases at the corners when they laugh.

How about their smile?

When they’re staring off into space, zoned out, and smiling to themselves,

Do you remember the way their lips curve?

How about the feel of their hand in yours?

Or their arms around you?

Do you remember the way their hair smells when you have them pulled close?

Time’s up.

Posted in Word Prompt

Millie’s Gone

WordPress Daily Prompt – Fraud

Moira packed each picture away carefully. Eventually Levee Harolds family would want some things but boxes of wedding pictures featuring his soon to be missing widow? Those weren’t likely to be the best souvenirs of his life. There would be some story about sweet Moira Harolds spinning out of control in the wake of her husband’s death, perhaps she would disappear to begin another life. Those were details that the former Mrs. Harolds didn’t have to bother with.

No, the only concern Moira had was packing boxes that would be eventually picked up by someone and her new packet of papers.

Moira ran a thumb over a silver and gold frame holding a particularly stereotypical wedding shot of her and her now deceased husband. When she looked at it through the eyes of her new persona, one Vera Milguy, she felt little. There was perhaps a twinge of sadness for the former Mrs. Harolds, after all Vera Milguy wasn’t a complete monster.

Beyond that though there was something else brewing. A feeling that neither Moira nor Vera could quite place. A deep unsettling sadness was threatening to take hold.

“Maybe it’s better to set these to the side for now.” The woman dropped the frame back onto the soft carpeted floor and stretched. The former Mrs. Harolds had been quite sentimental. It made sorting through things a chore. None the less it was something that had to be done in some capacity. She smiled to herself as she thought of the guidebook. People would shit themselves if they knew there was a guidebook. 

Crossing the room she surveyed the few things left on the walls. Two large paintings, a collection of ornate masks and a rather decorative full length mirror. The former Mrs. Harolds had fine tastes, perhaps Vera could learn a thing or two from her. She turned in front of the mirror letting her black skirt swirl around her waist.

For a second she caught sight of herself, giggling like a child as her curls bounced around her shoulders. Without warning that deep unsettling grief leapt from the darkness and took hold of the woman.

She struggled to understand who stared back at her from the mirror. Was it the former Mrs. Harolds? Her new prospect Vera Milguy? Perhaps it was any one of the many others.

No, the blue eyes swimming in tears reached even further back. Her lips twitched and trembled as the sobs threatened to overflow. There was no longer a woman crying in her reflection but a child, the timid and shy Millie.

Without thinking she lifted a finger to her lips and bit it gently, it did little calm her but the pressure satisfied a nervous tick Millie had nursed since she was a toddler. Sweet Millie was filling with sorrow over the passing of Mr. Harolds. She was filled with fear over the path life was taking. The small timid Millie wanted to run home and cry in her mother’s arms.

“No.” It wasn’t the former Mrs. Harolds or Vera who spoke. “No!” Millie, a grown woman now, stared at herself with fists clenched. “Millie’s gone! Do you hear me! She died with her love when her father shot him the head!”

With force that surprised every persona she’d ever taken on, Millie slammed her fist into the delicate glass sending shards flying around her. The cracking and crashing echoed through the hallways followed by the clip of Vera Milguy’s high heels. Blood dripped from her bruised knuckles as she slammed the front door behind her.

“It’s better this way.”