To my inky friend

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It’s been quite a long time
Since I last held you
And now you just don’t feel the same
You’re like a long lost friend
The kind I used to know so well
The sort I’d spend every day with
Who I’d laugh and cry with
The kind I’d stay up all night with
Who’d listen and love me for me
Like the friend who was always there
No matter time or day
The sort who cared about everything
Regardless of its true importance
But now things are different
And you feel so unfamiliar
Our connection has sadly faded
And the magic that was once inside you
Seems to have lost its fiery spark
You used to be so mesmerizing
I could stare at you all day long
Your life-giving enchantments saved me
And I wonder why you had to change
You used to write the loveliest things
But like a long lost friend
Who was once as close as a brother
You just aren’t the same as before
I’m afraid the spell has been broken
And the essence of you is surely gone

© 2019 Michelle Cook

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The truth

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I feel saddened by words
Which aren’t meant for me
Seems so often the truth
Hides in what I see

And my heart breaks
For what I know to be true
But my head tells me to ignore it
Now what should I do

Do I blindly let life
Lead me by
Enjoying the naïve view
Right in front of my eye

Or should I care
That the truth is hidden
Behind words I see
So plainly written

© 2019 Michelle Cook

Illuminating illustrations

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Defiled strokes
On soiled canvas
Once vibrant flecks
Destroyed by madness

Disarray strewn
In flagrant display
Immortally disfigured
In austere grey

Regretfully imprinted
On a heart of black
Never to find
Her way back

© 2019 Michelle Cook


For a month of writing prompts, click here;  Illuminating illustrations

Even from afar

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Words cannot express
Everything you are
I’ve loved you forever
Even from afar
And on those days
That are cold and bleak
It’s you that I miss
You’re the one I seek
I cannot deny
The things I feel
It’s you that I love
These emotions are real
You’ll always be there
Concealed in my heart
The place where we never
Have to be apart

© 2019 Michelle Cook

Who am I?

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Who am I?
Some say I’ve changed
But have I?
Or am I merely revealing
Who I always was
Maybe I’m just fed-up
With people not understanding
Perhaps I’m finally breaking free
From always hiding the true me
There seems to come a time
When we can no longer be afraid
To let others finally see
Our true identity

© 2019 Michelle Cook

The keeper of her heart

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He was the grantor
Of wishes
And the bearer
Of love
He was the giver
Of affection
And the maker
Of dreams
He was the bestower
Of kindness
And the producer
Of happiness
But most of all
He was the keeper
Of her heart

© 2019 Michelle Cook


For a month of writing prompts, click here;  The keeper of her heart

 

Forsaken

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The sheets
Were the only witness
As to what transpired
That day
Ending up discarded
In a disheveled mess
On a cold
Barren floor
Tossed nonchalantly aside
Like they never
Even mattered
All the warmth
They ever gave
Instantaneously forgotten
As a sudden moment
Of unforeseen passion
Left them crumpled
And useless

© 2019 Michelle Cook

Wednesday

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The clock
Was restless
In anticipation
Of another day

The girl
Was helpless
To keep procrastination
At bay

The work
Was senseless
And wouldn’t
Go away

The day
Was useless
Windy
And gray

The outlook
Was pointless
But she’d promised
To stay

The desire
Was reckless
To find
Another way

The afternoon
Was zealous
Beseeching her
To play

The schoolbook
Was jealous
Begging her
Not to sway

The convincing
Was endless
And she became
Its prey

The pendulum
Was voiceless
With nothing else
To say

© 2019 Michelle Cook

Corrupted

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As the ink slowly drips
Conjuring its spell
I give myself over
To the desires that dwell

I watch the words forming
In a vapory haze
Leaving me sickened
Weary and dazed

Stretching the bounds
Of my disjointed affliction
I write through hell
For this is my addiction

Lured once again
By this mysterious fate
These are moments
I live to hate

© 2019 Michelle Cook

Listen to your mother…

One thing I’ve never done is written anything for obvious reasons.  Everything I write has a much deeper meaning, and few people are privy to the real interpretation.  And in a way, that is so much more satisfying to me because there are things I don’t want to have to explain to the world.  My true self is hidden somewhere within the words that scatter across every page I write.  All those cryptic words… most reminiscent of days long ago when the seasons couldn’t change fast enough; when life took me by surprise every goddamn day, messing with my heart and soul.  Seems like a lifetime ago, and yet it really wasn’t, or was it?  Those who think they know me, are only fooling themselves.  Didn’t your mother ever tell you not to judge a book by its cover? ~M

Silver Sand

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Silver grains of sand
Tickle my fingers
Running straight through
Never willing to linger

And just like time
They empty from my hand
Causing me to wonder
Where every speck will land

Will they become more
Transformed into something of worth
Or will they forever be fragments
Of unembellished earth

© 2019 Michelle Cook


For a month of writing prompts, click here;  Silver sand

Blank page

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You stare at me
All bright and clean
Forever taunting
It’s so damn mean

I know your game
I’ve seen it before
Ever daring me
To come explore

To drip my ink
Upon your page
Convincing me
It’s all the rage

But what if I finally
Told you no
Would you then
Just let me go

Or would you dare me
To be your writer
Suggesting I stay
For an overnighter

I can tell you this
You’re wasting your attempts
Cause I feel nothing
But contempt

So unless you want
Your page turned grey
Think I’ll just
Be on my way

© 2019 Michelle Cook

What would you do?

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What would you do
If you had a whole day?
Would you leave behind the things
That always get in your way?

Would you watch a sunset?
Or perhaps fly a kite?
Maybe sit on your front porch
And drink milkshakes all night?

What would you do
If you had an entire week?
Would you search for all the things
You’ve been dying to seek?

Would you act like a pirate?
And finally go on an adventure?
Searching far and wide
For that lost buried treasure?

What would you do
If you had a full month?
Would you express to the whole world
That you’ve had quite enough?

Would you go on a rampage?
Perhaps tell everyone how you feel?
Or would you just stay inside
And keep everything concealed?

What would you do
If you had a complete year?
Would you investigate all the things
Which have never been clear?

Would your curious mind take over?
Would you become a sleuth?
Perhaps a professional eavesdropper
So you could uncover the truth?

What would you do
If you had a forever?
Would you still stay inside
Even in good weather?

Or would you finally just enjoy
Everything you’ve got
And not let your life
Be all for naught

What would you do?

© 2019 Michelle Cook