Sorry for mass tagging, I’ve never done this before and I probably won’t do it again, but I really don’t want to leave anybody out. If I tagged you, you’ve liked one of my posts before. This is just a thank you, but don’t feel obligated to keep reading just because I tagged you. (I’ll try to keep it short) ¯\_(ツ)_/¯

Like most people on this site, I’ve always loved reading and writing, but before Prose, I lacked motivation to write anything that wasn’t a school assignment. My confidence about my writing was really low, and my first post caused me soooo much anxiety. I refused to check my email for notifications, because I was absolutely dreading all the negative responses and hate I thought I was going to get. I honestly thought there would be people telling me to get off of the site, since I didn’t think my writing was good enough. Instead, I woke up the next morning to people who actually liked my post and it was seriously a life-changing day for me. Just one person reading (and enjoying) something I’d written is so insane and motivating, and I just really want to let you guys know how much your encouragement changed my life.

I know I still don’t post often, but I’ve been writing more, which led me to discover that poetry is a really great coping mechanism for me. I rarely share my writing with people I know in real life, so I really love having such a supportive place to share here on Prose. The community is so uplifting, and your support has given me the confidence to share more of my poetry and writing with my friends and family.

I can be a really shy person, and even online interactions freak me out sometimes, so in all of my earlier posts I just didn’t respond to comments... sorry about that. I love every comment that I get, I’m just bad at any kind of social interaction.

Anyway, thanks for reading this, and thank you so much for giving me the encouragement and support to keep writing. :)

My sophomore year of high school,

i remember hearing a lot about the symbolism of doors in To Kill a Mockingbird.

″...closed doors meant illness and cold weather only.”

In my house, closed doors were the norm.

We all valued our privacy--

closed doors held hours of homework,

outfit changes, phone calls to friends.

We closed our doors to watch tv,

to brush our teeth, to pack our bags.

Our house had thin walls, and squeaky hinges,

and everyone heard if you peered out,

or stepped into the darkness to view the stars.

My brother made a habit of leaving in the middle of the night.

Every opened door was audible:

His bedroom, ten steps, squeaking hinges and rattling blinds on the back door, ten feet and one wall from the head of my bed.

The crunch of gravel.

His truck door, an engine turning over. Slam.

More gravel.

The same patern in reverse when he returned.

I don’t know why our parents couldn’t hear,

when every noise in that house had always been so deafening to me.

Every argument, every step down the hallway for a glass of water, every heavy breath.

But our closed doors preserved more than just our privacy,

they preserved our reputation.

Everyone always talks about what happens behind closed doors staying that way,

except,

my door didn’t sit right on its hinges,

and has never latched.

And i know that our walls are thin, never mind the crack always left in my shield,

and i can’t imagine how no one heard.

How nothing ever escaped the brick encasing our secrets.

Heavy breaths,

and torn sheets,

and yelling,

the formation of bruises,

and threats by the dozens.

My sobs, muffled into my pillow in the middle of the night.

When i could hear every time someone rolled over in bed.

Separated by ten feet,

and one wall.

And if ever rumors of the shadows behind our doors were whispered,

if ever a whisp of smoke escaped the fires behind our thin walls,

we searched for the crack that caused them,

sealed it up,

and never spoke of it again.

Except,

my door didn’t sit right on its hinges,

and never latched.

And we never stopped the fire from spreading.

And i escaped in a whisp of smoke.

I’d never even talked to her

just watched her from afar

but that girl she had a way of

breaking hearts and leaving scars

#poetry #micropoetry

Please don’t look twice

Or read things into this.

It has no hidden meaning

And if it does

It’s hidden.

Don’t look beyond the words

For meanings quite absurd,

I’m simply writing simply

Writing to fulfil me

Full of words

That fly like birds from my mind.

You’ll only see what you find

If you’re blind.

It was an accident but she knew that no one else would see it this way. They would blame him for her death, pointing accusing fingers in his direction until his own demise. She had already forgiven him for he had only done what she wanted him to. She had left her parent’s home with exactly one thing on her mind: to get wasted beyond this existence, to somehow feel anything but the ugliness and shame that seemed soul deep.

He had picked her up around 8 that evening expecting to win her heart, not to cause it to stop beating. He had loved her ever since they were small children playing in the sandbox at her house, his parent’s didn’t have enough money to even have a yard. He thought she was beautiful and couldn’t understand why she didn’t see it. He had all intentions in making this woman as happy as he possibly could, he was willing to do whatever it took.

She was all grins in her black sweater dress and sky-blue knee high boots when she saw him waiting in his car curbside. She almost danced a jig walking to him, and pecked him on the cheek as she got inside the passenger seat. She didn’t love him or anyone for that matter. People had only dissapointed her in this world and she was positive that they would continue to do so if allowed. She did find him attractive, kind and a genuinely good person, as far as that goes in this universe, she snickered to herself, knowing that the community had already pegged addicts as anything but “good”.

She did love that he was her ticket to get out of this lame universe, her rollercoaster of highs and lows. She loved how all she had to do was ask him for a pill, or sometimes just look at him and bat her eyelashes. He was putty in her hands, but all she wanted in her hands were chemicals that could stop the pain and ache of constant consciousness.

He handed her the xanax when they turned the corner on their way to a local bar. She gobbled them up in one sip of the stale Coke in his console. He asked her if she should have taken all of them at once, she replied with a giggle, stating she had taken more than that on a good day. He had seen her take methadone and drink all day, see her shoot up heroin and snort a clonopin, why should he have worried about the 50 mg of xanax and whatever else may be in her system - this girl was a boss.

It was later that night, a couple drinks at the bar, she couldn’t necessarily remember anything that happened, just that she needed to lay down, she was so tired. She was so tired of this life, of having to take a pill in order to feel like a normal person, even though it made her the exact opposite. She was just plain tired of it all and the world knew it. Everyone should have known it, if they had known her. She didn’t feel at home and as she fell into a sleep that her body wouldn’t wake from she begged whomever was listening to take her home.

You can teach how

to blow kisses

to hold hands

to tickle sides

to kiss foreheads

But who teaches us to hug?

We are pulled from our mothers into a cold world

blind

freezing

screaming

But our first sensation is

the warmth of a hand

the strength of an arm

the brush of a cheek

Who teaches newborns to cling to their mothers?

Who teaches you how to feel comfort and joy by an embrace?

Who shows us how to run to those we’d never see again,

arms outstretched in anticipation?

By our very natures, we are drawn to one another

to embrace to conserve warmth

to wrap around a loved one in protection

to hug to show affection

to feel like you’re not the only person in this life

We hug because we are happy

We hug because we are sad

We hug because we are excited

We hug because we are in love

We hug because we are human.

This is for every person still recovering from their last date disaster, and I hope this will help you out or at least get a bit of a laugh.

There is one gentleman I will call "Cape Guy." We were at a LARP event, and I met him during a tournament. We got to talking and flirted a little bit. I hardly remember anything about him except that he had a really long black cape. I mean, Edgelord level of cape. I was just starting to relax and think maybe the cape wasn't so bad when he leaned over and smelled my hair. And I don't mean a flirty little wiff, I mean nose touching my hair SNNNIIIIIIIIIFFFFFFFF! I spun back towards him, eyes huge, and he acted like he had no idea what I was talking about.

I once went out to a club with my friends and may have had one drink too many. I was dancing when this tall guy came behind me and started dancing with each other. He had good moves and wasn't grabbing onto me, so I let him. One thing lead to another, and we ended up making out at one of the booths. I followed him outside to see if we could get a cab when we passed under a street lamp. I looked at him, and he was staring at me in terror. It was my biology professor.

I went out on a date with one of the guys I had a huge crush. He brought his girlfriend from another school. Wait! He asked if it was okay that he already was dating someone else. HOLD ON! She was toally okay with it, too.

I prank called this guy I was seeing for two weeks, "I know your dirty secret!" He left me a voice message, "I'm so sorry! It was just one kiss. I know she's your best friend, but it just happened!"

I went to the library to meet this guy for a "study group," and he told me not to sit down because Shelby was coming. I didn't know Shelby. I still don't know Shelby.

I didn't know he had asked me out on a date. I had been working on a painting project and didn't bother to change.

"I dare you to kiss her!"

"EW! She's fat and gross!"

*Dies internally*

(We were, maybe, 8. Relax.)

"Hey, how's it going, handsome?"

"Fine, I guess. I just wish I would meet someone. All the girls who like me are maybe a 5 if they would lose weight."

(Yeah, him we hate.)

"Do you want to see my collection of pokemon hentai porn? I even wrote a fanfic about it."

"Sometimes I think about what it would be like to kill my entire family."

*Blocks him in every possible way*

*Texts me from one I forgot* "Wow. Rude."

He texted me from a facebook group, "Hey, I noticed your pictures of your cosplay. They were really good! Plus, I think you're pretty cute. Is it okay if I ask for your number?"

"Actually, I don't give out my number, though. We can be on Facebook, though."

"Ok, when do you get off work?"

"... how do you know I'm at work?"

"At 4:45 your time, you're usually at work. I assume, because the post location is different."

"Hey, you sound cute over the phone."

"Thanks, my wife thinks so, too."

"You have yourself a good day, sir!"

"You are the most beautiful and angelic human being to ever cross my news feed, and I just wanted to tell you that you are more lovely than all of the elf-women and fantastical tales of beautiful maidens. I would sacrifice my life it meant I could simply gaze on your face in real life. Would you send me a picture just for me?"

(I just realized a lot of these are from Facebook. I really need to get out more.)

I asked my husband, "How do I look?"

He tells me, "You look good, babe."

I asked my friends, "How do I look?"

They tell me, "DAMN, GIRL! Look at that sexy booty! Get 'em with those curves."

I told my husband, "I had a hard day at work."

He tells me, "Aw, I'm sorry. That sucks."

I told my friends, "I had a hard day at work."

They told me, "Who are we stabbing? Is it that one accountant? I hate him."

I told my husband, "I don't really feel great today."

He told me, "You are my beautiful wife, and I love you."

I told my friend, "I don't really feel great today."

They told me, "You are a goddess! A marvel of nature! You are strong and courageous and I'm so jealous I could spit! No one on earth compares to you! Don't ever doubt yourself, or we will punch you in the face!"

I'm deeply grateful for my husband, but I'm also deeply grateful for the ladies in my life. My man will always be number one in my life, but sometimes you need the understanding of another woman to keep yourself going.

It’s not about

she’s my girl

or…

he’s my man

…no

It’s about

that’s my person

my heart

my soul

my home.