Dear A,

I really miss you more than ever at the moment. Sometimes I see you out around town, and you seem happy, and I'm happy life is going well for you. But sometimes I wished that you could've found that happiness with me. You were one of my best friends, the person I could talk to about anything, and now I feel like i've already lost you. This is somewhat my fault due to the fact I have distanced myself from you, but you just seem better off that way. Who knows, maybe someday we can work things out, and everything will go back to the way it ways, but at the moment I'm doubtful. I honestly wish that I could turn back time so I could fix things, maybe then I would be the one that you loved. I think in my heart a part of me will always love you, and although I wish to go back in time and have a fresh start, I don't regret the time we have spent together the past couple months, in fact I believe I will cherish those moments for the rest of my life. But I need to let you go, because the repititive cycle our relationship goes in hurts, being in and out of love is tormenting. I sometimes hope that we get another chance but it's rather selfish of me as I know we're probably better off as aquaintances, possibly even strangers. I really do wish you well, you deserve only good things and I hope you find someone that makes you happy.

Sincerely,

Izzy

Dear Grandpa,

I wish I got to tell you how much you meant to me. I was always nervous about talking to you, not because I was afraid of you. I was more nervous in the same way someone gets nervous when they meant their favourite baseball player or favourite actor. You were the man that I always wanted to be like. You were the bravest and toughest person I know. I could only imagine what it would like to grow up in a land where you don't speak the language and have those people hate because of it. Being forced to work in the fields and building roads at 11, while the great depression looms on. Then storming the beaches of Normandy at 17. What's not to admire.

Those are the stories that I tell most people. What I haven't told anyone or even realized myself until now. Is that I really loved that you were never afraid to be yourself. You wore your heart on your sleeve. Even when it got you into trouble. You understood what true freedom means (as cliche as it sounds) being yourself. Our ancestors roamed the endless Eurasian steppes simply because they could. Now we can't do that, but you taught me that true freedom is living honestly. Or at the very least, not being who others want you to be.

Your loving Grandson,

Andrew

The last time I saw you was three years ago. I liked you in 7th grade, when we were just 12. It feels like forever ago even though it’s just a fifth of our life ago. Maybe it was just a childish crush. I’d hate to think so though because I still think about you sometimes.

I didn’t want to leave, but I think it might have been better this way. I know I am too shy to have done anything about the way I felt anyway. I would have just watched from the side as you held hands with Savannah, went to homecoming with Ireland, or flirted with Ellie.

I liked that you were always happy, always positive, always nice. Your smile was beautiful. Or maybe I just imagined that(doubtful). You made me laugh. I value that in people.

I’d help you with math sometimes. Once we were the only two in the class to get 100% on a test.

You’d joke around with your boys, tell them I was like your mom. When I told everyone I was leaving, you were one of two who asked for my number, the phone number I didn’t have and couldn’t give.

On the last day of school, we were all seated in the auditorium waiting to hear who was voted greatest achiever and who had helped the most people strive to be better. A lot of people told me they voted for me. I was so excited. It felt good to have the support and love from everyone who had welcomed me to the school just 3 years before. Your name was called as one of two 7th grade winners. I was excited for you. I couldn’t help thinking I might stand next to you up there. but I didn’t. I was sad, but it wasn’t her fault.

On the last day of school, every year there is a dance. We pack ourselves in the loud, gymnasium to dance and have fun. Brave people asked other people to dance during the slow songs. I wanted to ask you to dance. But I didn’t. And I regret it.

I don’t know if you know, but the year after I left, I thought about you a lot. I kept praying for summer not just to be done with school, but because that’s when I would be taking the annual two day road trip across half the country to visit family and friends.

How’ve you been sense I left? I heard that you are different now. Sadder, less you. DI’d you miss me? I heard a lot of people missed me. That made me happy. Not you missing me, but that you remembered. It feels nice to be remembered fondly.

If I came back right now and you saw me, what would you do? What would you say? If I see you next summer, could you remember me, so I would be happy? Could I give you a hug?

Love from,

Mary E. B.

She’s been writing letters to herself

Ever since she was nine

Trying to convince herself

To stay alive

~ “I guess it worked, I mean her ghost still writes”

Dear crush,

Hello from your weird friend. From the girl that helps you with your homework cause you’re smart but just like everyone else you need a little help once in a while.

I would like to tell you, as briefly as possible, everything that I know as well as what I don’t know.

Here’s what I know. You care. You care about everyone, including me so thank you. I also know that I like talking to you despite your strange sense of humour. I know that you hate socializing just as much as I do. I know that despite being busy you’ll make time to watch the anime I asked you to watch. I know that even though you constantly say no, you’ll learn the song I asked you to learn and last but certainly not the least; I know you like her.

It was an assumption at first but after watching you, as I usually do, I saw it was true. She’s lovely really. She’s one of my favourite people and I know that if she liked you too you’d be a nice couple.

Here’s what I don’t know. You’ve been giving me an awful lot of attention lately but of course she still receives more. You’ve been watching me, maybe because you noticed me watching you. If you ignored me or gave me a normal amount of attention I’m sure I could get over you. I just don’t know if I want to. If you actually told me you liked me I don’t know what I would say. So I don’t even know what I want from you.

Confusing thoughts aside, I’d like to thank you for talking to me and for being my friend. For noticing when I sat alone cause my best friend didn’t come to school and I felt out of place with my friends. For checking on me then and making sure I was fine. Thank you and all the best with your getting her to like you(I think you’re making progress).

Sincerely, me.

Wherever you are, I hope you are happy. I hope you are among wise men, old souls and angels. I don’t know if you have thoughts of Earth, but there are people here who miss you.

I wanted to tell you about the first pun that I understood had followed the gradual moans after you said something like, ‘Oh you get your mail from a male? I get mine from a female.’ When everyone rolled their eyes, I remember seeing you as the wisest man in the world.

I remember winning Young Authors, having you visit and speak with the speaker. I remember feeling proud to be in a room with so many writers. I remember you nagging me about not sharing what I was writing; teasing me for keeping my romantic novels to myself.

I remember being jealous of my brother who was invited to play chess instead of me. 

I remember not knowing you, talking to you when I had to and not because I wanted to. I remember rudely asking for the remote when Uncle Gene gave us the first season of ‘Lost in Space’ for Christmas.

I remember watching you fall into the embrace of your recliner, the eternal coffee-stained mug resting on the T.V. tray; I remember you typing behind the folding doors even when we invited you to play a game you chose not to, I remember the impeding invasion of polar ice worms, I remember you drying your socks on the space heater. I remember never being able to wake up eartly and get coffee with you and Phil.

I cherish two times with you the most; when I said goodbye and told you that I couldn’t express how much I loved you, and you replied softly, ‘I know’. And last summer when you critiqued and challenged me to write a story about the statue.

I wish I had played more chess with you. I wish I had shown you more of my writing. I wish you would be here to see my first book published, to see me going to the University of Iowa. I wish I had spent more time in your den. I hope someday to have found the peace and confidence you had in the existence of God and our life here.

To feel no resentment that my time is up too.

How much you’ve inspired me; from the plastic sheep that poops jellybeans, your den, your chair of farts and leather, your holey smoking jacket, to the experiences you’ve treasured, the perspectives you’ve sought after, the knowledge that you know nothing.

I hope that you will understand why I took so many books from your den. I hope it isn’t seen as greed but my attempt to discover the stories you found important to keep your legacy to anyone who has read your books. 

I will miss you, I hope only to make you proud and bring more and more people to appreciate your work.

Love,

Abigail Sire

August 11, 2063, 3:13 A.M. Space-Time.

My dearest Hanhanbell,

If you ever get this message, it will be my last log. By then, I'm either with you, glistening in the oceans of laughter in unison, or I’m embarking on a long forever-journey to embrace the fate of my own demise.

Either way, I am glad to have known and loved you immensely. You have brought joy, mystery, and discovery into my life.

Before this recording stops and I run out of my last breath while dancing on the full moon, I’d like to say, I'm sorry. I’m sorry for all of my missteps. 

I’m sorry for putting everything on your weary shoulders while I hid in the garage; you’ve supported all of my dreams, putting yours on hold; you kissed me good night, and slept on the couch next to me. 

You made me sandwiches, a hot cup of coffee and even in the middle of those long nights, you woke me up and carried me upstairs to our king bed. I miss all of it terribly now.

I’m sorry for the failures of our unfulfilled hopes and dreams, and the broken promises; you can blame it all on me. 

I should’ve put you first and most. All the time I had spent hiding away to find a way to another universe, I was chipping away so much quality time from us.

I just understood how selfish I’ve been. You deserved better than what I’d promised but never delivered. 

As I lie my head on the dusty surface of this magnificent star and reminisce, I've found nothing to match your beauty and grace. My long journey resulted without fruition. You should’ve been my first and last precious discoveries, my only priceless jewels. 

I’m beginning to wonder why I needed to travel to another planet to find wonders when you’ve always been my only golden planet floating and gravitating beneath my two blind eyes. I'm sorry for not being there for you all the time.

I wish I could fold time and space to kiss your lips for the last time.

If we won’t be dancing together, please keep my memories alive; but move on with your life.

I hope you’ll find a wonderful person, who’ll make your gracious heart beat faster, and make you a happy woman, a joy you deserve for eternity.

Your Love,

MidnightInk 

I hear Jerusalem bells are ringing,

Look at the stars,

Still I call it magic, when I’m with you,

When you feel so tired but you cant sleep,

You’re so far away,

If you never try, you’ll never know,

You’re a sky full of stars,

Look how they shine for you,

I came along, I wrote a song for you,

I will try, to fix you.

#coldplay #music #song #album #poetry

Locked up, imprisoned, under house arrest, quarantined, whatever you want to call it, it’s all the same to me. Loss of liberty is more like it!

Who do they mean, what do they mean? Stay at home, don’t go out, look at them all, running to the shop, no mask, no gloves, emptying the shelves of dried foods to hide away in their little nests, it’s a me me society!

Who cares about another human being, I see people fighting over toilet paper on the TV, getting their fifteen minutes of fame on our TV screens, the anger clear and in full HD! No one cares!

They are all liars those MP’s that talk cheap to us all, who do they think they are kidding with their sound bites and private nannies looking after their kids and housekeepers running to the shops fighting just so that you, our MP’s can wipe your arses in comfort and eat your fancy food.

Clap for the nurses; clap because they have no protection despite the MP’s telling us every day how much they admire and respect them. Into battle they go, over the top, let’s go, no rifle, no PPE, no aprons, not a round of ammunition in the breach! But we clap them and they continue the fight!

Clap for the refuse collectors who take your rubbish away so we are not infested with rats! The shit jobs! Neglected by those in power for years, voted against having a pay rise, but we need them now our heroes.

Locked up, imprisoned, under house arrest, quarantined, whatever you want to call it, it’s all the same to me because I am vulnerable and I’m in the category its official! I am confined to quarters, me, this old lady with no one to get my toilet paper..................

©Celia Poppinjay – 28th May 2020

Once a year the monster emerges from the shadows, silent and invisible it stalks us biding its time before going in for the kill. It always seems to take the best of us, the strongest and fastest males. Luckily the creature seems to hold little, if any, interest in our females and young. Years ago it took my father, this year I know, it's coming for me.

I can still remember my fathers death, he was always so vigilant but the creature kills so quietly father was gone before he even noticed its presence. The rest of us ran away in terror, I was young there was nothing I could do at the time. When we returned all that remained was blood on the ground and the scent of death in the air. I refuse to suffer the same fate, I am faster, bigger and stronger than he ever was I truly believe I stand a chance. Unlike those taken before I will not be dragged to the monsters lair and devoured, I will fight.

This I believe until the monsters roar echoes in my ears. They all run and I try to follow but instead collapse to the ground, my life-force pouring out into the grass. This is how father went and only now do I realize he, and I, never stood a chance. I can see it now coming towards me, emerging from the brush with odd legs and a single long claw. It's smaller than I thought but more hideous than anything I have ever seen. As I fade away it makes sounds I hear but do not understand. Then I see its eyes on my pride, that which probably doomed me to this fate, my spectacular antlers.