Truths

There are some elements of lie in every truth, if ever truths are spoken. How do you tell a truth from a lie, actions speak louder but then there is Hollywood. Oh well

Here is a truth. I cant lie when asked a question.

Its like the intonation of the sentence is a trigger to my brain to totally do away with the “they arent supposed to know that ” filter. The end result is i have true pieces of me left stuck in someone’s memory as a not so seriously ment tirade to a not so seriously asked question, then the same person has the gall to say i hold so much of me inside.

If the universe ever decides to map my life my joys my pains my labored struggles in this mass of heaving earth , i hope it places a star on ever smile i caused, a sun on every love i bore, a leaf, for every pain i caused and wind on every truth i told. I hope, though i bare my soul to so many un deserving nitwits with the desperate need to meet, connect to something real, because surely surely there has to be someone deserving of this awesomeness, that i shall not pass on to my next life with al these truths in solitary confinement.

Daily prompt solitary

Symphony

You liked my song you said,  the way the notes would curl out of my throat,   whisper through you and beg the goosebumps to rise on your skin send whispers down your spine,  making you whimper with suppressed need for me,  for my touch on your soul and the burn of my love in your heart

You hurt me

So much and that was suprising because the hurt was the first tell tale sign that i had fallen,  where i thought my pride was holding  my spine up nose up am too cold hearted to feel the warmth you seem to radiate when we are together.  I seem addicted to your touch and now that we are   are not touching anymore the only symphony i hear in my head is the cracking of my cold heart. 

Daily prompt:symphony 

Release

I seek to avenge all these tiny cuts in my soul that bleed out my hopes and dreams in short spurts of foaming memory every time i have to think of all i havent achieved or all ‘they’  have achieved  and the possibility of living my life drifting from work day to work day making another rich or happy or better or being  nothing more than i am a body behind a desk infront of a computer 

I want to walk on a silver shore and feel the warm  sand between my toes or chase beautiful sunsets with my yatch or seek treasures long lost at sea i mean maybe i could be a pirate and never set foot on land again where all my expectations and everyone else’s is left buried  in  a shallow grave as my last heritage to my sea born daughters a reason to find their way back home 

Daily post:- bury

make me

make me more patient Lord, let me take it a day at a time,

make me stronger, let not the wicked ways of men sway me,

let your arms surround me and your peace engulf me.
let not my anger consume or pride lead me,
make me a woman after your own heart

make me grateful lord, let me not desire anothers portion,

anothers health, or wealth or life,

teach me to be the best version of me, theĀ  best person you want me to be

word prints for daily prompt portion

Nemesis

See how her feet leave prints on the sand,  how her lipstick leaves an imprint of her lips on a wine glass,  how when she dips her hands in paint she can make impressions of her fingers,  how she has an imprint of your lips on every surface of her skin they touched,  how if she concentrates hard enough, she can feel the warmth of your skin,  the lingering musk of you so close,  so close..

You should know then,  what marks,  impression  you leave behind, how she has mastered your breathing patterns,  how she knows when  you are angry or tired or loved,  how she knows what every scowl  means,  every grunt every smile.

How she wishes she could heal you,  even though she knows she cant.

Daily prompt: impression  

Kalmatuz III- blue monkey dines with her father

Father stands staring outside at the trees. 

“He failed us!” He bellows from his spot at the window,  back arched proudly, head turned away from blue monkey who was kneeling behind  him. If she could lift her head she would see the white tears that were  leaving a scar on his rugged face,  or the way his chest heaved in sorrow,  another son lost,  another battle lost.  He was tired of the meaningless loss of his children,  his sons,  arrows in his quiver thrown at nothing. His last son was only twelve harvest  moons old.  He couldnt risk him. He wouldn’t  risk him.

“Father,…” The words of comfort chocked her,  her icy anger still  a lump in her  throat.

“Send me..” She whispered

“No!?!..” Father turned around angrily,  the dark sheep skin he wore almost falling off his shoulders,  he limped,  towards his first daughter,  towering above her,  fist drawn back as if to strike her.  But he stayed his hand and brought it down gently instead ,  touching her head.  She whimpers in surprise.

“You cannot go, “he tries so hard to control the anger in his  voice., “i will not let those bastards,  mock me anymore,  i will not send my daughter into battle,  you are to stay here and rule and birth a daughter who will rule after you.”

Blue monkey rises angrily,  and steps back a screech dying in her throat at the sight of father’s  tears.

“He was my brother,”  she whispers, “he was my  baby brother i raised him and gave him his first arrow,  i taught him to hunt and i will avenge him..”

LA LA LA land

Here goes my unadulterated  opinion of the greatest musical in the history of all musicals.

Love is a farce,  and all that you think love should be,  it isn’t.  Love is patient,  love is kind love is slowly loosing your mind,  love is death.  Because without death there can’t be love.

Love is open windows on rainy nights to let the thunder in,  love is pillow fights and burnt food and broken music records.  Love is all your beliefs brought  low because  beliefs never become reality.

Love is a musical you loved that didn’t end how you expected.

Word prints for Daily prompt: -farce