One Unsympathetic Night

 

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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/

 

In the still of the night

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In the still of the night
he came to me.
Kneeling beside me,
I could feel his feathery touch.
He was memorizing my features,
hoping I wouldn’t wake.
I was only pretending to be asleep,
enjoying the feel of his hand.
Desperately wanting to reach out,
but not daring to ruin the moment.
And I wondered about all he was thinking,
as he traced every crease on my face.
I wanted to open my eyes and smile,
as he placed warm kisses on my cheeks.
But I dared not even open one eye,
for I knew he’d then be gone.

© 2019 Michelle Cook


Photo credit:  https://pixabay.com/photos/woman-human-face-sleeping-lantern-4284892/

 

One last wish

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Searching the depths
Of the starry night sky
Arms reaching out
With tears in her eyes

And yet once again
There was no reply
So she made her last wish
And said a final goodbye

© 2018 Michelle Cook


For a month of writing prompts, click here;  As she walked to the end of the wooden boards, the stars spoke to her.

Nightmarish Newts

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Clouds part
And the shadow’s curse
For each nightmare knows
What’s coming is worse

Since blackest night
May cause fears
But it’s the moon arising
That brings most fears

Hairs prick
As the howling cries begin
And the man in the moon shivers
Losing his grin

For the demon’s call
Is surefooted and true
Be careful and look out
Or the newts may catch you

© 2018 Michelle Cook


For a month of writing prompts, click here; Nightmarish newts

Her Secret Place…

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Beneath the silvery moon sky
She kisses all her cares goodbye

Barefoot and free
She races down to the sea

In the soft glow of the night
She dances in pure delight

Her emotions are heightened
Yet she is not frightened

The breezy ocean air
Runs fingers through her hair

The cool salty mist
Gives a soft gentle kiss

She embraces the touch
From this place she loves so much

She is pleased by her endeavor
But knows she cannot stay forever

Her heart is heavy and torn
Creases of it now aged and worn

She reaches down underneath the sand
Capturing the tiny pieces in the palm of her hand

Gently blowing the colored crystals away
She promises to come back another day

© 2018 Michelle Cook