dancing solo

I look for you in between the pages, like dried petals I keep in one of my favorite storybooks, except that the tale is not mine. I see you smiling, not at me, but at sentences stitched so sweetly they sugarcoat their way to you.

Beautiful words sway and twirl before pretty mirror, as they cast a passing glance at me: a reminder that I don’t belong here.

The music starts to play, but you’re still nowhere to be found—I dance alone, in the dark, just like I always did.

~~~

© annie scribes 2018
all rights reserved

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7/22

(a gratitude note)

for quiet minutes alone
on weekend mornings
with just coffee and my thoughts

for the chance to unlearn
so I can learn new things
and re-learn things I thought I knew

for the moment love caught my hand
when I was on the brink
of letting go

~~~

Resurrecting my weekly gratitude note, starting today.

Photo: 14398/pixabay

© annie scribes 2018
all rights reserved

certifiable

I despise my thoughts
when you’re not near
—they take me down
to the rabbit hole, coaxing me
to burrow in sorrow.

How they let me out
of the straight jacket
—I haven’t a clue,
for I’ve lost my mind
and my entire heart
since I gave my all
to you.

~~~

© annie scribes 2018
all rights reserved

a few pieces

They came from a place where love had been scattered, and though he’d promised her a few pieces, they were few and far between. When tomorrow arrived they gave sunrise another glance, for their ties were too strong to break, their desire for each other larger than life. She’s falling harder than she’s ever been, holding on to the only thing she wants to believe in: that she will get to have more than a few pieces this time around.

~~~

© annie scribes 2018
all rights reserved

stark comparison

a few words left on a note
thrown at my window
—written in a hurry

paragraphs of love letters
grown on their pages
—thoughtfully

~~~

© annie scribes 2018
all rights reserved

why we ache

had we not been introduced
to something better
would we have wanted more?

had we not seen colors
beyond black and white boxes
would we have asked
for rainbows?

an ache — I wonder
if it’s man-made
self-inflicted

maybe we would not demand to have
brighter and more fragrant flowers
in our lawn
if we don’t keep peeking at others’ garden
adorned with golden roses
we can’t afford

~~~

For #WhisperingNeds 132, ‘lawn’. Click here to listen.

© annie scribes 2018
all rights reserved

just a speck

the sky won’t notice
dust falls off and disappears
million stars remain

~~~

© annie scribes 2018
all rights reserved

insignificant

Forgotten page
though all chapters
are playground

maybe its lines
are not pretty
enough.

~~~

© annie scribes 2018
all rights reserved