Because I Love You

I know it hurts.
I’m sorry.
I can fix it.
I can make you better.
Why won’t you let me make it better?
You’re pretending.
You’re pretending, aren’t you?
Why are you pretending?
Stop it.
It doesn’t hurt.
It still hurts?
I’ll fix it.
I’ll make it stop.
I’ll make it stop for us both.
I can’t do this anymore.
I’ll make it stop.
I know it hurts.
But now it won’t anymore.
Now it won’t hurt either of us.
Not anymore.
Never again.
I know it hurts.
I’m sorry.
I can fix it.
Why won’t you let fix it?
Stop fighting.
Let me fix it.
It won’t hurt anymore.
Not anyone.

Sometimes I wonder which is worse, loving someone with a chronic condition or being the one with the chronic condition…

The Secret Keeper’s Writing Prompt #85

My first attempt at one of one of The Secret Keeper‘s writing prompts, #85 to be precise. The Challenge Words were: | SCORE | SLEEP | FREE | CALM | ESCAPE |


The dream scored the senses into the flesh but the soul still wasn’t sticking. It wanted to be free. It didn’t want to stay in the body. It wanted to escape.

The sensations flared again as another reality seared its way through the mind, snatching at the soul. The body laid calm and still as the soul bucked and shied away.

This world burned. This reality was pain. The soul was too strong to stay tethered to this weak little cage.

But… then… they knew. So they tore it. They took infinity and divided it and pushed the broken bits into the bodies. They sewed the tattered edges into the mind and pinned it down through the veins.

Now you know why something is missing. They took you from yourself.

But because you are still you, if you find the rest of you, then you’re even more you than you were before.

From Tethered to Tattered

Souls were meant to travel
To permeate each other
ebb and flow
to soothe into one another
and withdraw like the dew

Yet they are constrained
pushed into this world
caged inside flesh
Tortured by glimpses
of infinity in a moment
and eternity beyond touch

So, what happens
to the soul that escapes
Who shredded its tethers
and flows in and out
of itself and others

What of the body
left behind soulless
during dream time
with connections awry
the cage splayed open
Empty with soul absent

Or of the reunion
And the soul returns
and the body reawakens
when the soul no longer fits
and the cage is weakened

How long can a soul stay
in a cage it hates
when it’s felt freedom
and the touch of life
true as from the source

The shell never fit
A body ever left wanting
Captive of in-between
on staying or leaving

So it leaves just once more
and then returns
Searches again for clarity
Tearing the strands
of body and soul
ever more
and more
Forever more
one last time

Literary Lion Writing Prompt: Boys

After much time  I am back, and we’ll see how long my presence lasts this time, working on a piece for the Literary Lion Writing Prompt: Boys.

This one is clearly being sourced out of my own life right now…



A copious collection of extravagant glass and crystal perfume bottles lined glass shelving in the window. Between the sun during the day and the neon sign across the street at night, some source of rainbows always painted the white grimy walls.

The police were looking through lace and frills from floor to ceiling looking for anything that might be out of place. They questioned the outrageously decorated tenant while things and people shuffled about.

A sharp crack sounded, an officer yelped, and part of the closet came off in his hand and an old skeleton fell out of the closet.

Words: 100

Closing the Age Gap

My great grandmother and I were identical despite the years apart. The few pictures held in treasure boxes throughout her attic confirmed it. That was where the similarities ended, I’m afraid, but I didn’t find that out till years later.

It seems that my grandmother has been quite on the decline since her original diagnosis of congestive heart failure. There is not a lot of info passed to me from my mother, she doesn’t tend to talk about people other than herself. I did however hear today that she was in the hospital for quite a long while last month due to a new degenerative disc condition they’ve found along her neck.

We once again have a matching diagnosis, though mine seem to have been found sooner than hers. I have more time to correct or adapt to mine…

Makes me wonder what else we might have in common that I haven’t been told about.

I am wondering a lot about the secrets everyone keeps.

Literary Lion Writing Prompt: Pool


Trying my hand at Pool, the latest prompt from Laura Feasey’s Literary Lion Writing Prompts.

The Dying Pool


The beauty was gone.

We had thought he was special, my sister and I.

He wove magic with his words by the big fire. The cacophony had quieted for him and his passion had born infant oceans from those who listened.

We had thought he was born of the sea.


He came to us, gazed in and truly saw us.

We thought he was returning to the sea.

He was not magic. He was not of the sea. He thrashed and churned our home with his panic.

We let him float away when he was still.


Word Count: 96