Category Loss

Vicious and Kind

freyathewriter 4 Comments 
We are vicious and kind
pendulum-swinging between
one          and the          other
over coffee and cereals
in expectation of bills we can’t pay
and no windfall from a lottery we never took part in

It won’t be too long before one of us walks out
leaving our keys in the dish on the hall table
not going for good
but just because working for the corporation
and the wished-for weight of external expectation
is, in that moment
more meaningful than launching a lifeboat
to rescue our foundering relation-ship

and thank god, it gets us out of each other’s way
healing the bruises
for one more day
for now

I might get a bonus
so I can pay the locksmith to break into the house again
you made me forget my keys
and where the hell were you last night anyway?

And so we rattle on
marking time until we couldn’t care less
numbed by indifference and backs turned at night
blinking at that last box of books we can’t care to fight over
one of us walking through rooms
echoing with apathy
wondering how it all went wrong

I stand at the door
waving like I always did
but you drive away
not looking back
you don’t remember our old routine
or choose not to repeat it anymore
and that’s it

The end.

It’s Open Link Night over at the dVerse Poets Pub, which means we can either share a poet of our choice, or be inspired by the optional mini-prompt. I chose to share a poem I wrote some time ago, accompanied by this image of a screaming baby bird, which is part of a large painting I created, also some time ago.

As they say, the past is another country,

Please do join us over at dVerse if you love writing and reading poetry. It’s a lovely community and the hosts will give you a warm welcome.

Lurk – Magpie Tales

freyathewriter 12 Comments

highway

They think that I only have myself to blame, those who look upon me from afar. They, who are safe in the knowledge that their lives are sorted. They gaze upon me. They see only what they want to see.

Once, in the glory days. I was like them. From high on my pedestal, I judged, I commented, I highlighted the shortcomings of others. I was sure I knew it all.

Oh, how times change. Here I am, eking out my existence on the periphery. This underpass is my home, for tonight at least. Tomorrow, I move on, as always. Tomorrow, I sit with my hand out, waiting for coins to be tossed in my direction, as always.

I move on, but I don’t move far. I circle the town, spending my days in the streets where my former friends still shop and eat and drink. They see me. I am the only person static in a frenetic, non-stop world. They see me. They resent me. I am the reminder that life can turn on you in an instant.

I am the conscience they would rather not have.

————

Here’s my latest entry into Magpie Tales. I don’t know why this picture of cosy winter socks took me down this road. Sometimes, the muse is slant-eyed…

Please visit Magpie Tales for more creativity – you know you want to!

The Girl – Magpie Tales

freyathewriter 9 Comments

socks

The Girl had given up long ago. You could see it in her eyes.

She had decided – as young girls often do when life turns on them, viper fast and twice as deadly – that self-protection was her only option.

She pulled up her drawbridge. She armed her battlements. She opted for ‘No’ when she desired ‘Yes’.

Oh, The Girl’s life was safer, alright. How could it be anything more when she had turned her back on the world? How could she take risks with her arms folded tightly across her chest and her hands clenched into tiny fists?

She looked, but she did not see. She observed and noticed nothing.

She turned inwards. She defended herself from anyone and everything.

And so, she disappeared.

————

Here’s my latest entry into Magpie Tales. I don’t know why this picture of cosy winter socks took me down this road. Sometimes, the muse is slant-eyed…

Please visit Magpie Tales for more creativity – you know you want to!