Last Memories

I wonder if she remembered him

during the happy times, when he was “all there”

and not just as he was at the end,

when he couldn’t remember who any of us were.

She lost him a day after he waved goodbye,

and I remember the tears in her eyes

when she recounted the story,

“It’s as if he were ‘all there’ again,

and he knew where he was and that

everything was clear to him.”

She took off her glasses to wipe her tears,

slowly trying to convince herself

that this was how it was all supposed to be.

She held me in her arms a little while longer,

as grandmothers do, comforting me

as much as she was comforting herself.


Holding Out Hope

I guess I held out hope for long enough,

when you said you’d start dating again

I wanted you to mean me, but I knew you didn’t.

You are not mine, never were, not even close,

but I always hoped you said

“I wouldn’t date you because

I’m not attracted to you in that way,”

was just your way of saying,

“don’t pursue, I’m not ready.”

It took me a while to learn,

that you were just not into me.

Now you’re ready to put yourself out there,

and He looks like the first target,

and I read the innocent flirting,

the words you put together to confirm

that you are into Him.

I read it twice, okay, maybe three hundred times,

as a jealous person would,

trying to find every hidden meaning,

looking for… hope.

But there is none, at least not for me.

All that’s left is you, and Him,

making plans to be out and about

and I am left in my sadness,

alone, attempting to dig my way out of the sorrow.

And if you should call tomorrow,

and ask for me to come to you,

I doubt I’d make the trip,

the heart can only take so much,

before it moves on,

no longer holding onto hope,

free to live and love.


I like to think that the things I’ve acquired are important. I like to tie emotions and ideas to objects just to give myself a reason to hold on to them. It used to be “nice” things, and then “sentimental” things, and now just things.

I hoard paper, and not even blank paper that I’m hoping to use one day. I’m talking pieces of paper that have things written down on them from years ago. What the messages meant to me at the time, I don’t recall. I keep them, though, in case one day I remember what it all means and I can be relieved that I hung onto it.  But that’s me trying to rationalize the irrational. Why do I need a piece of paper that has “courteous crustacean” scribbled on it?

I have writing samples, lists, reports, sales goals, and random sheets of 8.5 by 11’s sitting in plastic bags, backpacks, shelves, folders, and bins just waiting. Any of it useful? Probably not. Any of it dispensable? Not if you ask my inner hoarding, fearful self. And really, that’s what I’ve come to terms with. I am afraid of losing everything so I hold onto everything. These papers are a horcrux to me and I’ve divided my soul for every piece I currently have. Perhaps, this is why I feel so stretched thin.

A few days ago I was searching for a screwdriver, when I was attacked by a stack of papers taller than my desk. I think it’s time to clean it up. But how do you let go of so much? It’s like at this point I’m holding onto the mounds and mounds of documents because I’ve already come so far to turn back now.


via Daily Prompt: Wrinkle

In the grand scheme of your life I am but a hiccup,

a stray white hair on a black cardigan

standing out for all to see.

I am a wrinkle in your perfectly pressed blouse,

annoying only when noticed by you,

but almost completely invisible to everyone else.

And that is what I am,

an annoyance to only you.

We are the same, you and I,

like magnets of the same pole,

and maybe that’s why you push me away,

but I’ll change if it means I can be closer to you.


Out of Reach

via Daily Prompt: Grasp

I wish it was easier

to be around you,

and not want

to be with you.

You tell me I make you smile,

at your lowest points

I bring your mood up,

and you’re thankful.

But when I reach for your hand,

you’re always too far away,

and I’m grasping at air.

I’ll fake it, pretend I don’t care

continue to make you smile,

and when we get close,

I’ll go on hoping that

someday you’ll grasp my hand tightly

and say, “never let go.”


No Wonder

via Daily Prompt: Wonder

I took the seat across from her,

she sat still, but smiled,

she had on watermelon earrings,

and her nails were red, like her lipstick.

I wondered why she was so “done up”

stunning, really,

and I couldn’t help but stare.

I feared she would notice though,

so I looked down at the glass in front of her,

with the red liquid,

she told me what it was like five times,

but I couldn’t make it out,

and I just stared at her ruby-red lips,

as she mouthed the words over and over,

and I felt my heart skip a beat.


Here at the End

via Daily Prompt: Evoke

And here at the end, the goodbyes evoke the memories of hello,

the weight is lifted from shoulders, formality an afterthought,

laughter echoes as jokes become more lighthearted,

smiles on all faces, attempting to hide the sadness beneath.

You were all special, and I learned a lot,

but today is goodbye, and tomorrow anew,

and if I don’t see you again, at least the memories of hello,

and now, of goodbye, will remain with me for all time.