I comb my drafts for moments when I was real.
A crumb trail back to seconds I couldn’t feel.
I throwback sour liquors and sweet wines, one small glass at a time.
I tell myself the rest can flood the drain if these will just numb the brain.
I wish my life away, churning day dreams.
I wait for the moment when my soul detangles from yours
When I can no longer feel your heart ache in my bones.
If I can’t feel, you’ll cease to be real.
“Do you think it’s fake?” Shanna focused on the neon green moving in the breeze.
Dena’s eyes focused beyond the grass on one Ms. Leroy. She was tall, blonde and, as their mom said, “100% plastic”.
“Like a barbie.” Dena whispered.
Shanna tilted her head while staring at the stiff blades. No matter how she turned, tilted or squinted the grass looked nothing like a barbie.
“I don’t see it.”
Dena grabbed at her non-existent chest.
“But don’t you see? One day I’ll have some just like that.”
“Are you sure?” Shanna never thought her sister liked plants all that much.
PHOTO PROMPT © Ronda Del Boccio
Friday Fictioneers courtesy of Rochelle Wisoff-Fields
Word Count: 100
The softly yellowing light from the hall tosses shadows against the wall. It catches the stubble lining your jaw, ever so quickly it flashes in your eyes and reflects from the waves in your hair.
I’m frozen, blanket pulled around my waist and pillow hugged tight in place of where you should be. You stand shyly while your eyes seem to gloss over me. We’re here, only feet away, but there’s a thin veil of reality guarding the way.
You move steadily through my room though your eyes see straight through me. Your smile, perhaps not meant for me, sends waves of anticipation, pure pleasure, cascading down my arms.
I reach for your hands, the seemingly knowing comfort of your arms, my fingers gently stirring the thin mists guarding us from real and fiction. Each ripple in the foggy veil, more violent than the last, sends shocks through time; beginning to distort this moving picture at my bedside. Your eyes of adoration transform to looks of condemnation.
Missiles from a past long forgotten explode at my feet, stirring runaway memories. Noxious fumes and pretty perfumes take hold, guiding my stumbling trip along nightmare lane. Your visage, dark, brooding and all at once silly and loving, is no stranger behind the veil.
Without warning the undulating mist falls away. All at once I find I remember everything.
They say when it’s real it’s never over.
It’s hard for me to say,
Without melting into all the sappy gooeyness
That oozes out of love poetry.
But these are things I can say:
When I look in your eyes everything disappears.
I’m reminded that it’s me and you;
A force against the world.
I’m reminded that home was never a place,
Never a cushy pillow or a soft blanket,
But a spot in your arms, against your shoulder,
Moving with your heartbeat,
Whispering all those words grossly inappropriate,
And never feeling the least bit uncomfortable,
In your laughter,
The way your hands move along my spine.
I’m reminded that it’s support,
Not the unfailing, unwavering, always yes,
Even if it’s the worst idea yet,
But the unflailing,
The ‘honey maybe you shouldn’t’
Not because I don’t love you
But because it’s just a bad idea.
I’m reminded that
When it’s true,
When it’s real,
When another has taken your heart
Making that promise to protect it,
That it’s a conscious choice,
Love I mean.
And I know what they mean,
When they say …
When it’s real, it’s never over.