Not That Brave

via Daily Prompt: Brave

Can we pretend, for a moment, that I didn’t care for you,

that my heart didn’t hurt when too many days had gone by,

that I didn’t make up excuses to be in the area so I could see you,

that I wasn’t on the verge of tears when you said goodbye?

Can we pretend that your eyes aren’t the most beautiful shade of brown,

that your eye lashes aren’t so perfect that every blink makes me smile,

that your lips look so soft from close up and your smile catches my eye,

that when you speak I fall deeper into love with you?

Can we pretend I never met you?

I’m not brave enough to move forward if all I want is you.

Brave

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To Write is To Risk

via Daily Prompt: Risky

As I show the world what I’m thinking,

I expose myself to danger.

“But they may not like it,”

is the immediate thought,

but if I do, does that really matter?

“Come from the heart,”

is the advice given,

“if it means something to you,

how can people say it sucks?”

Oh, but it can, and at times, it has sucked.

Writing is not a simple thing,

effort and time intermingle to create

a lasting piece of evidence,

that on good days, or melancholy days,

or mediocre days, or medium-rare days,

you will be able to revisit, relive, or scrutinize.

The problem… once it’s out there

everyone can see it, and if read once,

someone will always know what you thought,

what you felt, or what your point of view was,

for whatever subject it was,

that spurred the written piece in the first place.

It’s far too risky to write, it’s easier to just read,

pass judgement, critique, criticize, compare and contrast,

but I’ll keep writing because I find solace in the process.

I don’t love to write for the outcome,

I love to write because it is a journey, unique,

and specifically my own.

Risky

But I am a Fraud

via Daily Prompt: Fraud

I will listen to your gripes,

allow you to vent until there is nothing left

to complain about.

I will bring you coffee when your hands are cold,

offer warm coats from my own cold shoulders

so that you do not freeze.

I will offer you advice when he doesn’t show interest,

explaining things about his plans that I have no clue about,

pretending to be a friend.

But I am a fraud,

I am no friend of yours,

at best an admirer from close up,

at worst obsessed with your very being.

I will go on with this deception,

because I can’t have you,

and because your eyes look past me,

when you’re searching for love.

 

Fraud

Margarita

She is cold, blended or on the rocks, she is of ice.

Beautiful– she is colorful, perfect proportions,

sits pretty, almost too magnificent to disturb.

She is sweet, so sweet you will find yourself blinded,

bitterness subsiding into a sugary treat,

but in her sweetness you’ll find she is strong,

stronger than you believed,

strong enough to destroy you if you let her.

She is fire, stick with her through the cold,

and she will warm your heart,

pain subsides, pleasure ignites,

but stay too long, and she will hurt your chest,

a heart attack in a glass,

you can’t say goodbye, she is too good to give up,

but you’ll realize maybe she’s not for you…

find another to taste, and forget how

she makes you feel.

In the end, though, she is all you want to drink.

Lost Fire

via Daily Prompt: Tame

He sits inconspicuously in his chosen corner,

away from judging eyes,

silent in his thoughts,

alone in his heart.

Months ago he was full of fire,

courageous with his ideas,

speaking out loud for all to hear,

and now, he is tame,

a shell of his former self,

watered down until the embers

will no longer ignite.

He has lost,

un-moving in the confusion,

pretending to be engaged,

but blank in his stare.

And maybe, we have all lost.

Tame

Friend Zone

via Daily Prompt: Recreate

Some time will pass and she will find,

someone to love her the way she deserves.

Her heart will sing, her eyes will light up,

her breath will be short as he kisses her lips.

I won’t be anywhere near her, too distant to see,

out of her mind completely because he is not me.

I will try, with my best attempt, to recreate

the feeling I felt for her, but with someone else.

And she will never know that I loved her

with all my heart and soul, because she said,

“We’re only friends, nothing more.”

Recreate