Give me bricks

I'd rather build a wall

Than ever walk with someone

Who will leave these halls

And watch from afar

When I fall.

"Better to have loved and lost"

But that's not true

You can never miss

What you never knew

Never loose what didn't

Belong to you.

You can't burn

When there is no flame

And afraid of fire

We cried ourselves a hurricane

Drowning in the tears

Of who we never became.

Atop the stairs,

Down, down, around,

Breathe and ache,

Make no sound,

Hide away,

Are you found?

As in flight,

You speed away,

You cannot fight,

In light of day,

You cannot leave,

You’re forced to stay.

You spin around,

Then her face,

Splits open wide,

And there’s no space,

For you to hide,

You’ve lost the race.

Her gaping maw

Lined with teeth,

Razor sharp,

Beyond belief,

You meet your death,

Crushed underneath.

You wake above

To face your fears,

You’ll die again,

But shed no tears,

For you’ll be back,

Atop the stairs.

Coming from the black.

Screeching.

Clawing.

Ripping my flesh,

My shame spilling out.

My soul,

Theirs for the taking.

I'm watching in disgust.

They are devouring me.

Whimpering.

Looking for someone to help,

I hear more noises coming from the black.

More beasts coming to enjoy the feast,

Stepping out of the dark I see myself.

Standing.

Watching.

An evil grin spreading across my face.

What a sickening realization.

What a menacing truth.

I will always be the monster,

Devouring the good in myself.

His anger was the worst.

Always screaming and yelling.

Sometimes throwing empty glass bottles.

Of course, I was scared,

anyone would be.

One day, in the midst of his anger,

he took out a knife and ran

towards me.

I was so scared.

So, I grabbed his gun

I pointed.

I shot.

His anger no longer controls me.

An aimless gaze

Bringing bliss

Causing chills, all

Directions missed

Entangled lies, done by

Fictitious scenes of

Giving love with

Hidden means

Inducing eyes always

Judging my moves

Knowing my weakness, then

Leaving me soothed

Mellow voice has

Never heard no

Omitting passion for a

Perfect show

Quietly cooed as we

Rest untouched, I'm

Sweetly embraced but

To stay is too much

Under your thumb with

Violence and yells, you

Whisper me under

Xanax’s calm spell

Your lips they tremble with

Zealous motivation, though you're looking at me... your heart is taken

when you

shut your mind’s eye,

close your mind’s ear,

relax your mind’s skin,

hold your mind’s tongue,

and stop your mind’s nose,

the ripples in your mind’s pond will cease,

and

you will realize

the pond

is an infinitely deep,

infinitely vast

ocean

of

pure

consciousness,

and every subsequent ripple

will be

a tsunami

of

delicacy

and

delight

In gratitude,

To my followers:

I’m not a terribly consistent person to follow. And I mostly upload my poetry and very little prose, so you don’t see much of what I write (cause I write a lot of prose...). But I think of you when I choose what to upload. When it isn’t for a challenge, I consider what you might like, and more importantly, what might be relevant to your life. Because you're important, and I don't write carelessly (or flawlessly, but I'll grow, right?). If I've written, there is a reason I've done so.

And if you read it, I'm grateful.

I’m pretty sure you could tell me my own themes without hesitation...they’re kinda obvious. I like to write about all that is good, beautiful, and true. Compassion, hope, truth, mercy, firmness of purpose, conviction--these are a few of my favorite things...

You are very patient with that. I hope that it is because you see the need for these in our world, in your own life, or in the lives of those you encounter.

I have, however, been asked why before. Why do I write so hopefully? Why am I so consistently optimistic?

I assure you: I am not optimistic, but I do agree that I am hopeful. Optimism is utterly useless and easily shattered, while hope is true and unbreakable.

I am of the utmost certainty that our happiness lies in reality and not in the make-believe, or in the ebb and flow of emotions, or in the security of ignorance and selective vision. And so everything that goes on the page is meant to be lived out in even the most minute moments of life. Every thought that passes through my head and every word I write is connected inseparably to reality. So, dear followers, if my fantasy worlds and imagined moments do not reflect reality and draw upon the real hopes and desires of man...forgive me, I have failed us both.

Remember, though, I do not dwell upon what is ugly, false, and evil in our world. So if you don't see enough of that in my writing, it is because I am quite sure you see a great deal too much of it in your daily lives. I will never deny that the ugly, the false, and the evil exist and take place, and I will never skirt around them, but I will always combat them with the good, the true, and the beautiful--which also exist, though we seem to forget that all too often.

And that, my dear readers, is why.

I hope it was as thorough an explanation as it was long-winded (I always am...).

I'm so grateful that you read my work. I'm so grateful that you think about what I've written. I'm so grateful you and I have a connection we otherwise may never have had.

I am grateful for you--grateful that you've followed me, yes, but mostly grateful that you exist. I really, truly am. You always show me a new facet of reality and teach me new ways to hope. And that is very, very dear indeed.

A Guideline to what @HopeMarie means in her terribly unoriginal comments:

“Thank you so much!” “Thanks!”

Read: Wow. I still can’t believe people enjoy my work...I’m so grateful. Yup, 'thanks' actually means 'thanks'.

“I’m so glad you enjoyed it!” ”:)” ”:D”

Read: Real time emotions. I am currently experiencing actual happiness inside that you enjoyed my writing. Your likes and comments motivate me, as well as make me grateful that I write.

"That's so sweet!"

Read: That's so sweet! I really, truly think so. Yep.

"[insert personalized different comment than usual]”

Read: Every word I write in a comment is intentional. I ponder it before I write it and after I write it. I’m not over-analyzing and there isn’t any sort of insecurity or fear behind it (don’t worry), but I just prefer to be sincere at all times. I want you to read exactly what I mean and to know that I mean exactly what I’ve written. You might notice that this doesn’t mean I take away all of my passionate digressions or some ’eh’s and ’haha’s and smiley faces here and there. Sincerity requires honesty, and if it’s in my comment, it honestly reflects something about what I mean or how my thought process went as I wrote it.

"I would maintain that thanks are the highest form of thought; and that gratitude is happiness doubled by wonder."

-G.K. Chesterton

And so, thank you followers, again and again. I am truly, absolutely, without-a-doubt grateful.

-HopeMarie

I have been on Prose for almost two years and I have so many to thank and am thankful for having in this Proser life.

First and like many that have come before me and after... @Sandflea68 for welcoming me and sheperding me through the first postings I made. Thank you for being an ear at times and for your openess and honesty. Now for the inspiring part of this appreciation - Your work that you post here are like paintings in a gallery. They have such imagery and craftsmanship that when I read your work, I read it 4-5 times to attain comprehension and then to study the craftsmanship of the write. If I ever met you in person, I would genuflect and kiss your hand, for you have my respect and admiration.

@estherflowers1 - You were the second Proser I came across. Your challenges and writes are far superior to my own that I read your work over and over to study and appreciate your verbiage and meter. If I were to reach into the wizards emerald bag, I would pull out a Thank You for your challenges, they have been the best therapy I have had, yet. I wonder if we ever met if I could keep up with your wit? Probably Not...

@Samanthalombard - Thank you for your writes and thank you for encouraging my own. I do not know if you will ever return, but I hope you do one day. You are missed. But again, Thank you. You encouraged my second post on the site and I wrote a sequel because of your comments. As always, thank you for your scandoulously delicious writes and for helping me to produce some of my own...as I said before of my writes, some hot...some not.

@Winterreign - Thank you for the smiles, and tears from your writes. You have bled on the page and it shows. I love your honesty and your humor. And I loved that you have asked for help with your cooking. If we were neighbors, I would love to be your tutor in the kitchen as you wrote at the kitchen table. Love is so hard when you are young, but it doesn't get any easier as you get older, you just gain experience...and the experience that you encounter is usually the hurt. Mickey Gilly sings a song - "Here comes the hurt again..." the lyric opens with this line - " Here come the hurt again

You'd think I'd learn...The more that I believe in love...The more I get burned"

@SaltandInk - Thank you for your works, for I do love your writes. I have also enjoyed the commenst we shared here and there. You are another I do not see as often and I hope you return to continue your writing. You are another that has encouraged me and hopefully I have done the same for you. If ever we met, I would just like to have had the opportunity for your company and a cup of coffee and the chance to call you friend.

Of my followers, I am certain that I do not deserve you, but thank you to you all. I haven't written as much as I would have liked lately, well I mean quality writes, but hopefully that will change shortly.

At least once a day, I see my own face in the mirror. Whether it be a glint of it on the blacked-out screen of my smartphone, or in the camera where I pose for a selfie with my friends. Sometimes, I go searching for a mirror - pretending I need to use the toilet when all I really need to use is the mirror.

But all those times, I see myself looking for imperfections. A wisp of hair in the wrong place. Wrinkles on the corners of my eyes. Smeared eyeliner outlining my dark circles. I smooth out my hair and apply eye cream to the end of my eyes. I wipe away the excess makeup, dab on some foundation to cover my dark circles, and sigh. I look for what others would see when they look at me and try to make it so that they only see what I want them to see.

Today, I'm looking at not what others can see but what I can see. That rebellious lock of hair I inherited from my mother reminds me that I am part of a loving family. My crow’s feet show a spirit in me that loves to laugh. The subtle makeup contrasted with the not quite covered dark circles from laboring over my report last night tells that not only do I want to look my best, but I want to be the best I can be. Today, I look into the mirror and see not what is to be fixed, but why it is a part of who I am.

I smooth my hair, fix my makeup and smile, realizing something I forgot for a long time.

I love the way I look.

Stab your dark and let it bleed

Out malfunctioning words

Grown from the dirt

I Dust myself off

And pull earthworms from my ears

To hear my truth

Listen close to the braindead

For their tongue 

Reeks of hidden wisdom