Just thinking…

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I’m thinking about people today,
some of the ones I know
and some I don’t.
And I wonder why there are some,
who never seem to respond,
while others are just so willing
to give everything.
I have days when I can’t speak
because I feel like everything
will just come out wrong.
Do you ever have days like that?
Sometimes I just want
to be alone with my thoughts.
People take a lot out of me,
I often feel their emotions
weighing me down.

© 2019 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/girl-thoughtfulness-sadness-1266299/

There was nothing left to say

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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/

I prevail

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As my eyes open
The light deflects my thoughts
Like insects they scurry away
Leaving a trail of unfinished reflections

This is why I write so much better
When I’m on the verge of dreaming
In darkness and seclusion
Is where most of my ideas are born

Just like the vast oceans
Teeming with animals we’ve never seen
So it is the same way with my mind
In deep, dark solitude ― I prevail

© 2020 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/portrait-fantasy-fantasy-portrait-4430290/

 

Unrequited love

 

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I realized something today
I love too fiercely for this world.
Perhaps people think I’m disingenuous
when I pour out everything I feel.

And I wonder what I should do
about all the love I have to give.
If I could bottle it, I would.
Surely someone would want it then.

If only I could share my love
with those who really need it,
or pour love into people
who are suffering from the lack of.

The biggest problem is
love hurts when you try to hold it in.
And carrying it around inside of me
is a burden I’m no longer willing to bear.

Sometimes, I just wanna rip out my heart
and feed it to the wolves.
At least then I’d finally be free
from the urge to ever love again.

© 2020 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/people-one-window-abandoned-3111875/

The Dream

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Once lost on the cusp
of a whisper in time,
is now something cultivated,
formed and fashioned.

Evidence composed
of a sacred memory.

Sprinkled with the essence
of a divine creator.

Recorded as proof
that our existence
has never been limited
to the meager
constraints of this world.

But instead,
“The Dream,”
that wonderful, beautiful dream,
goes far beyond…

Far beyond anything
we could ever imagine.

© 2020 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/fantasy-landscape-cave-sun-light-2945514/

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/

 

The enemy’s weapon of choice

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I continue to waste minutes
days…
even years.

Why?
Why do I continue?
And yet here I sit.
Pondering…
More pondering…
Until I’m near to tears.

And all those things ―
the ones the enemy knows
will pierce my heart.

He sends them my way…

Again, why?
Why is this world allowed
to be ruled by such evil?

If I were a god,
I’d do away with all of it.
Does it give pleasure to the almighty,
to see us suffer?

Sharp objects like daggers,
of course they hurt.
But it’s the soft-edged blade,
the one that slips between my ribs,
the one I never even notice
until it’s too late.
This is the enemy’s weapon of choice,
the one that devastates my heart.
And the damage is irreparable.

 

© 2020 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/people-woman-beauty-floor-model-2589639/

Lover of words

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He was a lover of words
Drifting through time
And I tried unsuccessfully
To make him mine

He was a hoper, a dreamer
Very much like me
And when we were together
He was all I could see

He had a very unique way
Of making me feel
As if the world was all mine
Ready to steal

He was impulsive and sexy
Witty and fun
And his charming personality
Could not be outdone

He was so many things
I felt that I needed
But I soon lost my way
And I never succeeded

© 2020 Michelle Cook


Photo credit: https://pixabay.com/photos/manipulation-book-relax-forest-4103289/

Lost under the bluest of skies

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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/

 

Washing woes…

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I am a slave
To its ring
That monstrosity
Of a thing

It calls for me
Night and day
Happily chiming
In its annoying way

And I wonder
What’s the good
To wish for a life
Beyond motherhood

For I was born to clean
Every mess
And so now
I shall digress

© 2019 Michelle Cook


For a month of writing prompts, click here;  Waterspout wishes

Bird on a wire

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Once a bird on a wire
She knew he’d fly away
For this was what he always did
Whenever his world turned gray

And after countless farewells
She finally vacated his space
So tired of his fabrications
And of always being replaced

For it wasn’t worth the heartache
Or even the fight of holding on
So she left him where he’d left her
Until he really was gone

© 2019 Michelle Cook