Street signs 

They walked down the street hand in hand, the same course as all the days before. 

Her eyes eyes begging to turn down the upcoming street. A change of scenery. 

His mind wondering what’s around the corner. There has to be more. 

But she said nothing, and he stayed quiet. Each so sure the other wanted what lies straight ahead.

And so they continued down that same street,

Into the dead end.

Singe

The thing about nerves

Is that they’re the embers of dreams. 

But sometimes you’re so entranced by the glow 

That you don’t realize you’re being burnt

Until it’s too late. 

And you desperately seek relief,

But putting out the fire

Has left you in the dark. 

A quick bedtime thought

In the moments before your lashes meet, what’s behind them? What vivid memories do your eyes desperately hold, flashing before you time and time again before the darkness sweeps them away?

For me, it’s you. A thousand times over. For every sleep, for every wake, for every day. 

Frozen Flames

I will not apologize for the intensity of my fire just because you like the cold. 

I will not stifle my embers just because you prefer icicles. 

I will not shade your eyes because the light that’s necessary for me to see blinds you. 

You see it as too hot, but it’s just body temperature. 

My temperate is your overheated, your moderate chilling. What you feel as a burn, I feel as frostbite.

It is not my fault that I feel with a frightening intensity. It is not your fault you navigate with reserved caution. I will not burn you as punishment, but you cannot freeze me out.

Fingerprints

What’s the point of having the upper hand
when you had to break fingers to get it?

Isn’t it funny?
We’ll step on the backs of friends
just to keep our own shoes clean.
Yet we could easily preserve our soles
and our souls
with one side step

The same amount of effort
and yet we choose
harm.

What’s the point of having the upper hand
when the fingers point at you?

I said, I meant

I said I was in love with the moment
The perfect lighting, easy smile

But what I really meant was
I fell in love
With the glow on your cheeks
And the shape of your lips

I said I was in love with the moment
The sun’s warmth, reflection off the snow

But what I really meant was
I fell in love
With the warmth of your body
And the gold in your eye

I said I was in love with the moment
The expanse of the woods, the little house

But what I really meant was
I fell in love
With the possibilities and the reality

I said I was in love with the moment
But what I really meant was

I fell in love

With you.

Excerpt from a short story I’m working on

This is a line from a short story that will hopefully come together soon. Anyone else find it easier to write in moments or short scenes than an overall story line?

Anyway… turning A Winter Scene into a real story, and here’s a little more insight into the main character. She says:

I didn’t fall for him in the sweeping, dramatic way they show in movies. I didn’t have a fireworks show in my chest or an “Aha” moment where suddenly I was head over heels.

For me, it was different. It wasn’t a feeling, but an absence of feeling. For the first time in my life, anxiety didn’t third wheel. I didn’t feel stupid after everything I said, I didn’t keep my phone in my hand eager for a text, and I didn’t lose sleep wondering if this was going to happen.

The absence of everything I hated about myself, became all of the things I began to love about him.