His words fester beneath the surface,
weary words of disdain and ill repute.
But what can I do,
and how can I be anything more?
For I am just another daughter,
a regret still in the making.
And my existence is a constant reminder
of all he’s ever done wrong.
© 2020 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/woman-mysterious-traveler-journey-5718089/
There was nothing left to say,
at the end of that fateful day.
The next morning,
the sky parted as usual
as the birds all sang in unison.
Each one responding
without a trifle
of a pink puffy, cloudy care.
The day lazily drifted by
as the trees did their perennial thing,
each one dancing and swaying
to the sound of the honeybees,
all very eager and harmonious,
in their afternoon endeavors.
Even the flowers
dressed in white,
parading around in their newest,
frilly attire,
couldn’t have been,
more carefree.
Each one so unassuming,
in their leisure,
yet studious displays.
Because like always,
it was just another ordinary day.
Another glorious day
to be alive.
At least that was the case
for everyone, but her.
© 2019 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/tree-dawn-bird-winter-weather-3189333/
The notifications are gone
Flags all disappeared
No new email
The silence is weird
Feels almost like
The whole world is dead
As more illogical thoughts
Fill up my head
Maybe I’m crazy
Or so I’ve been told
But the quiet is depressing
When the screen has gone cold
And isn’t that the issue
The problem we all face
Think I’ve become a phone zombie
And it’s such a disgrace
© 2020 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/iphone-template-mockup-mock-up-500291/
There was a time, long long ago,
when grief consumed and controlled me.
Desperate thoughts and delusions
carpeted the walls of my mind.
And if memory serves me correctly,
it all began one unsympathetic night.
I was lost in empty thought.
Resting quietly,
against the old familiar comforts,
which only a saggy, depleted featherbed can give.
But powdered blue notions,
ran rampant that eve,
spinning a trap, right in front of my eyes.
And nothing could have prepared me
for the ambush; I was about to face.
Typically, I have always been on the offensive,
but that night, I was taken by complete surprise.
It seemed as if a tornado,
one filled with erratic and overemotional thoughts,
had somehow landed on top of me.
I felt my chest tighten,
surrounded by every last unfortunate thought I’d ever had.
Even the cuckoo down the hall
seemed to chime a little less enthusiastically
as I wrestled with my mind.
Every hope, wish, dream,
seemed to vanish into thin air.
I was left nauseated by midnight blue reflections,
and I laid there motionless,
desperately waiting for dawn to arrive.
At first light, I knew something was still terribly off.
I became temporarily crippled,
the fear of ignorance—all-consuming.
The overwhelming feelings,
ones comprised of dolor and distress,
clung to the recesses of my troubled heart.
I was quite literally suffocating,
in-between swells of uncertainty.
It wasn’t long before mama came looking for me.
I must’ve had the look of death itself,
as the light in her eyes
grew instantaneously dim.
Mama worked to make sense of my sickly state,
and I tried to give her all that remained of my spirit.
But my half-smile looked more like a frown,
and there was just no way of deflecting
all the worry situated in her gaze.
I knew right then and there;
mama had recognized my face as her very own.
It seemed the dispiritedness in our humble abode
had finally caused the undulating waters to reach me.
As I now reminisce,
recalling the details of that one unsympathetic night,
I realize just how long it’s taken for the floodwaters to recede.
And even though the waves have since quieted,
I am still not the same girl I once was.
© 2020 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/sleep-bed-sheets-covers-comforter-839358/
I remain lost
Under the bluest of skies
Nobody, not one
Sees the hurt in my eyes
I am not free
To be who I choose
No matter what I do
I always seem to lose
I once thought
That love was real
But the longer I live
The less that I feel
And the truth is
I’ve never belonged
This is how It’s been
My whole life long
© 2019 Michelle Cook
Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/sky-cloud-plant-dandelion-blue-2969489/
Her Writing Haven 