Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
NaPoWriMo 2017 - 1. Days 1 to 7
April 1, 2017
Colour is a memory, something from long ago
My world is grey, the light gone from my soul
A tunnel dark and lonely, stretches out ahead
The crossroads there, you crafted with your need
Left, is lonely and I’d move through on my own
Right is the path we’d share; in your steps I follow
You’ve always been my rock, the only one for me
But you’re making changes and I don’t know the game
Though my belief is bone fide, my tears are real too
As we walk this road together, am I still the one for you?
April 2, 2017
Am I over-reacting?
No matter how often
I scrub my skin
The smell of him
Can’t be removed
Does it matter?
I’ve sold my soul
The scraps that remain
There’s nothing more
What am I now?
What do you see?
The mirror, when I’m brave
Reflects empty eyes
April 3, 2017
You’re sorry now
Don’t mind my laughter
Look at yourself
Do you really not see?
The cycle of your needs
What makes me sadder?
Your lies to me
Or the ones you tell yourself?
April 4, 2017
April came in grey and cold
But today I feel warmth
You and I have had it tough
Still our hands entwine
April 5, 2017 - Prompt: Recipe
I’d like to make you perfect
But how does one do that?
Can I remake your mold?
Pick and choose your traits?
No, this recipe I cannot change
And perfect you sure ain’t
So I'll take as you come
Imperfections and all
April 6, 2017 – Prompt: Bridges
I climb from this abyss you’ve dug
My heart is heavy, my limbs are weak
You call to me from the other side
Beckoning, you hold out your hands
The deep divide between us widens
How can I jump this vastness alone?
Tendrils of your love span the distance
Feeling their way, digging for purchase
I move across the bridge you've built
Trusting in your strength and love,
always.
April 7, 2017 - Prompt: What am I? (bit unfair this one, unless you know Toronto, and me pretty well)
Colour blooms in simple pots
The street’s alive and bustling
Meat’s smokin’ from the deli
Newsboy’s out there hustling
Sun’s rays warm the pavement
From it the ancient tree still grows
Patios welcome patrons
Laundromats to wash your clothes
Here you’ll find the rich and poor
Streetcars rumble on their tracks
This neighbourhood is brilliant
There’s nothing that it lacks!
If you want the answer to the last poem, just ask. Don't want to write it here in case people want to figure it out. I'm sure a few of you will guess right away!!
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Note: While authors are asked to place warnings on their stories for some moderated content, everyone has different thresholds, and it is your responsibility as a reader to avoid stories or stop reading if something bothers you.
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