West Virginia    1998 -    
Writing to escape this cruel world that we call a reality.
Writing to escape this cruel world that we call a reality.
Rebecca Lynn
Rebecca Lynn
6 days ago

How can you look at me and say that we are best friends,
when you know that you never have time for me anymore.
We were the best of friends, the ones that would pink promise and say,
"I promise that we will be besties until the very end."
everything has changed,
we're not the same.
You're not there like you were before.
You chased me out of the house and you locked the door;
but it wasn't just that.
It was raining outside when you decided to lock me out.
I was stranded for what seemed like years,
standing soaked and wet in my tears.

Yet, it wasn't just that...

You stopped talking to me months ago.
Now you're saying that I am losing hope.
Oh no, darling, you let go of the rope.
The rope that held our friendship from sinking.
Yet, you cut the rope that held us together.

But it wasn't just that...

You ignored me for months and months.
You never wanted to hangout anymore.
I guess this is where our friendships sinks.
Lost in the middle of the ocean, stranded.

I wrote this one about someone that I shared all my secrets with. Now she doesn't seem to care about me anymore.
#tears   #crying   #lost   #friend   #best   #ocean   #sink   #ignore   #stand   #stranded  

My life was like a storm on the raging sea.
I barely get any storm warnings before a storm hits.
Yet, when I do get warnings, I don't have enough time to prepare.
It's like I'm trapped in the middle of the ocean & no one seemed to care.
I was stranded in the middle of the raging sea for years.

For 11 years of my life,
the storm would just rage on.
It began when I was in third grade.
Storm right after another.
It began to calm down for awhile
until my seventh grade year.
The storm stroked again.
Then began to calm down Freshman year,
but started again Sophomore year.
No matter what I tried to do.
The storm would just rage on.
Nowadays, thanks to my Savior,
the storm has calmed down a lot,
with the help of my Savior.
I can live a peaceful life again.

I used to worry all the time.
Nowadays, I don't worry as much.
The ocean has calmed down within 11 years.
I am now walking on deep waters
My faith has been made stronger,
with the help of my Savior.

My life was like a storm on the raging sea.
I don't see storms on the sea anymore.
Jesus reached out his hand to calm the raging sea.
Jesus calmed the storm in me.
I am now free.
I am Seizure-Free.

I wrote this in honor of being seizure-free for almost three years.

His eyes shined
like stars in the midnight sky,
he is perfect.
This love is perfect.

The way he talks with his hands,
the way he walks when he stands,
the way he smiles at me,
he's so perfect to me.

The way we can talk for hours,
the way we kiss in the rain showers,
the midnight drives back to my house,
oh how I love him,
everything in life is so perfect to me
he is perfect.

this came to the top of my head. I will go back and edit this when I need to; but for know, I will leave this as it is.
#poem   #poetry   #eyes   #sky   #creative   #midnight   #writer   #walks   #talks   #shined  

To someone that I thought that I knew.
I guess I never really knew you.
I was just there to be a helpful hand.
Someone that you would just toss away at the end, what a friend.
Well, here's cheers, cheers to the new year without you.
I know I can find a better friend that you.
Someone that I hope that won't use me like you.
Someone who needs a shoulder to cry on,
someone who needs someone to depend on.

To someone that I thought I knew.
I guess you showed the true you.
You showed me that you didn't want me around since last year.
So, why should I have a reason to stay here.
To stay in a place where I am not wanted?

A crown; missing jewels and broken.
Fell from the head of a worthy Princess.
Landed in the hands of an unworthy Prince.
He wondered how the jewels got lost,
and how the crown just broke.

#poem   #poetry   #broken   #writing   #missing   #creative   #crown   #writer   #written   #jewels  

I’m so happy” she said, “I finally found the love of my life.” She hugged him tightly not wanting to let him go; but he hugged her tightly to him, not having the heart to tell her that he was only a figment of her imagination. He was the true love that never was.

Flash Fiction for creative writing class

She’s with friends. He’s with friends. She saw him. He saw her. He waved. She blushed. He talked to his friends. She giggled with her friends. He approached. She rebuffed. He asked. She accepted. He bought Starbucks for two. She found seats for two. He said, she said, he said, she said. They left. They entered. He got the drinks. She found them seats. They drank. They talked. They drank. He asked. She accepted. They danced. He kissed. She kissed. They left. They did. She woke, midnight. She left, no note. He slept.

Early morning. He called. No answer. Hung up. Called again. Got voicemail. He cried. He talked. He cried. He worried. He wondered. He stressed. He cried. He hung up. He left. He knocked. No answer. He broke in. She’s not there. He left. He worried. He cried.

Afternoon. She’s got a box. Runs home. Noticed broken door. Calls police. Police arrive. She explains. They talk. Got security. Locks door. Opens box. She tested. She’s positive. She cries. She’s poor. She’s alone. Phone rings. She wipes tears. Looks at phone. Ends call. Tosses phone. Phone rings. Heart’s broke. Can’t talk. Keeps secret. She sleeps.

Next day. He calls. She’s strong. She answers. He talks. He’s relieved. He questions. She breathes. Don’t answer. She asked. They hang up. They meet. She asked. He’s concerned. She cries. He wipes tears. She cries. He comforts. He asked. She answered. He’s shocked. He’s poor. She’s poor. He left. She cried.

He planned. He mapped. He wrote. He stole. He vanished.

Years passed. She parented alone. She met. New love. He knew. He asked. She accepted. She wed, reproduced (again), parented (again). They lived. He wondered. She told. He comforted. She wept. Baby cries. Child cries. She comforts. They sleep. She’s awake. Phone rings. She jumps. It’s him…

Weeks passed. Tomb Stones. She’s dead. Old lover’s dead. Left note. “She’s mine.

A flash fiction I wrote for creative writing and decided to post it on here.
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