Mounting Proportions

The blame.

It always starts in a distant mutter as if it were in another room. A room with faulty soundproofing. Then, it clears its throat. It leaves the room and stands out in the hallway. Its voice is louder, but not necessarily clearer.

Then, it heads to my room, talking all the while. I can hear its anger. I know it’s coming to slap my face. I hide under my blanket, but by then it’s too late.

Blame has entered the room and I can hear its voice.

“You should have been there.”

“Where were you?”

“Why were you so selfish?”

“Why didn’t you say anything?”

“Why didn’t you do anything?”

“You could have helped him.”

“You could have saved him.”

“All it would have taken was just words. Nothing but words.”

“But you were too busy with your own life. You did nothing to help him. You didn’t care. This was your fault. Your fault. YOUR FAULT!”

I don’t argue with Blame.

Because I know he is right.

My face burns and throbs as if Blame has slapped me.

Sometimes I wish he’d just materialize and slap me. It would be so much better than this.

I bury my face in my pillow and wonder when Blame will stop coming to me. When will his voice fall silent?

When will I be free?


February Writing Prompts


Lavendered Love

He found it. A linen sachet. Hidden in the back of his sock drawer.

He sat down on his bed. He turned it over and over in his hand.

He noticed the careful stitches. The faithful attempt at embroidering in the lines.

He held it up to his nose and inhaled.

He smelled lavender.

He smelled a memory of a quirky smile and an A-line dress that hit just below the knees.

A white halter dress with red cherries all over it.

And red lipstick.

Oh, such red lipstick.

He held her in his arms and they danced.

They laughed.

Oh, how they laughed.

And she smelled sharp and intelligent

Like lavender.

In all of his dreams and memories, she was his love.

She was lavender.


February Writing Prompts

Amorous Affections

I take her hand.
And she holds my heart.
I walk beside her.
And she makes me soar.

I smile at him.
And his smile lights my day.
I speak to him.
And his voice is my music.

Every day with her is magic.
Every day with him is a miracle.
Knowing that she loves me.
Knowing that he loves me.
It is amazing.
It is a wonder.

I laugh with the joy
She gives me.
I sleep with the peace
She lends me.

I laugh with the joy
We share.
I live the love
That will always be there.

With her.
With him.
Within us.
The love will
Always be there.

February Writing Prompts

Intense Attraction

Here I am.
Floating in the sea.
Drifting and diving,
I am free.

There you are.
Floating your boat across the sea.
I see you.
Do you see me?

Your hair is thick.
Your arms are strong.
We are not alike.

You have legs.
I do not.
You have lungs.
I do not.
You have hair and smooth skin.
I do not.

But I am attracted to you.
I follow your boat for
As long as I can.

Until the water runs too shallow
And I must stop.
I cannot follow.

You get out of your boat
And walk onto the shore.
I long to follow you.
But I cannot.

I will stay here.
I will watch for you.
I will wait for you
Right here.


February Writing Prompts

Inexpressible Notions

Do you remember?

The rain fell that night.
It danced on the roof.
A steady rhythm.
A natural sound.

Do you remember?

The wind howled that night.
It raced around the corners of the house.
It shouted unknowable words down the chimney.

Do you remember?

I crawled into bed with you.
I held you tight.
You whispered that everything would be okay.
“Don’t worry.”

Do you…?
Do you remember?

The feel of my hand.
The sound of my voice.

Do you remember?

The words I said to you?
The words I begged to you?
How much I tried to hold on to you?

Do you…
Do you remember?

How you closed your eyes?
How your heart failed you?
How your lungs failed you?
How you…


How do I say all of the hurt inside me?
How do I say how much I miss you beside me?
How do I express any of my pain?

How can I?
How can I say any of it all?
How can I speak my hurt
To a granite stone?

Do you remember?


February Writing Prompts

Steadfast Turmoil

I wake.
It starts.

What will this day bring?
What will go wrong?
What if there isn’t enough milk for my cereal?
What if my favorite spoon is missing?
What if my favorite cereal bowl breaks?
What will I do?
How will I cope?
What if someone talks to me at the store?
What if someone touches me at the store?
What if their hands are unclean?
What if the bathroom is closed for repairs?
What if I can’t wash my hands?
What will I do?
How will I cope?
What if someone coughs on me?
What if someone sneezes and doesn’t cover their mouth?
What if I walk through their cloud of spit and germs?
What if I get sick from it?
What if I get pneumonia from it?
What if I die from it?

Maybe I should stay inside again.
It’s always safer in here.
It’s always so good and clean in here.
If there are any germs in here, they’re my own.
I can’t get sick from my own germs.
That wouldn’t make sense.

Maybe I’ll go to the store tomorrow.
Maybe I’ll go after this panic attack dies down.
Maybe I’ll go after I catch my breath.
Maybe it’ll be safe.
Maybe it’ll be okay.
Maybe I’m overreacting.

Maybe there are too many things that can go wrong.
Maybe I’ll get attacked by muggers.
Maybe my car will run out of gas again.
Maybe my car will die in the middle of the highway and cars will crash into me, battering me around the highway.

I’ll stay inside.
I’ll go out tomorrow.
Maybe it won’t start up again tomorrow.
Maybe I’ll be fine tomorrow.
No fears.
No worries.
No hesitation.
Till then.
I’ll stay inside and wait for tomorrow to come.
I’ll have breakfast and hope for the best to come.


February Writing Prompts

Corner Gridlock

Standing on the corner
Watching all the cars go by
In streams and rivers
In rivulets and streams

It’s hypnotic and numbing.
As I stand here waiting.
And watching all the cars go by.

When will the light turn red?
When will the car creek run dry?
When will I be able to cross?
Cross on over to the other side?

How long have I been standing here
And waiting?
Fractions of days.

And I am waiting.
And watching the flood
Rush through the streets.
No break.
No breath.
No hesitation.

And I am standing.
Stranded on my corner island.
Watching all the cars go by.

Waiting and hoping
For the flood to ebb
And fade.
Then, I’ll be able
To cross over
To the other side.


February Writing Prompts