I don't remember every moment we shared.
I don't remember every conversation, or every word of wisdom.
Those memories are blurred through the distance of time, but the emotions I feel from those memories reach back like threads, connecting me to you. They weave together to create a blanket of the warmth and happiness that I felt when I was around you.
It is the last embrace from you, created from all the moments we shared
I can't make that blanket stretch over the space you've left in my heart, but I still wear it, because it is now the only thing I have left from you.
Your gift to me over a lifetime spent being my grandfather.
My Pop.
Even as I feel buried by regret and grief, I think how fortunate I am to have such a deep scar, created purely by your absence. What else could have broken my heart this way, if not an extraordinary love?
As odd as it sounds, I feel that I'm lucky that I can hurt this much, because it reflects how wonderful you were to me and reminds me that I'm still here to feel that pain.
The pain will pass. The love never will.
Dec 29, 2025
Dec 29, 2025 at 11:07 PM UTC
I see you walk towards the door, mama.
You have some bags. You seem like
you're in such an awful hurry.
I lift my little hands up to you,
the person who I love most in the world,
but you seem so distracted.
You tell me that you'll be back soon
The door closes.
I wait.
I distract myself with the few toys
that you've left me.
The TV is on Sesame Street
as Elmo teaches me about love.
I see a beautiful leaf flutter outside the window.
I can't wait to tell you about it.
It's been so long mama.
Where are you?
My stomach is growling
but the snacks you left have run out.
I try to open the door but my little fingers
don't yet have the dexterity.
I hope you bring blueberries home,
You know they're my favorite.
I'm starting to get scared, mama
my stomach hurts so much.
I wish you were here to cuddle me
and make me feel less alone.
I whimper. I miss you.
I've made a mess, mama.
I'm so sorry, it was an accident.
The first time, I tried to hold it in
but I couldn't. I hope you're not angry.
I have nowhere else to go.
I didn't know what else to do
so I took my pants off and put
them in the corner.
It's been so long, mama
Why haven't you come home yet?
I'm screaming now, my tiny body
wracked with sobs.
I'm angry and confused.
I don't understand why you left.
I'm terrified and alone.
I'm so tired, mama
my lips are dry.
my stomach is empty.
my eyelids are heavy.
I am inconsolable,
but I'm too weak to even cry.
my heart is broken.
You were supposed to protect me.
It hurts so much.
I'm closing my eyes, mama.
I hope that the next time I open them
You'll be there to tell me
Everything is going to be alright
I still love you.
Goodbye mama.
Jan 20, 2025
Jan 20, 2025 at 1:11 PM UTC
They say they a perfect memory
Is a memory that's never remembered
Strange as that may sound
But if that were true
I'd bury this memory of you
Deep into my brain
Never to be found
Then, someday, many years from now
I could open the lock and look upon it
savor it
indulge myself in the unmarred recollection
in the final moment between me and infinity
Dec 12, 2022
Dec 12, 2022 at 7:21 PM UTC
Max didn't even want to be there. His coworkers had invited him, and he hadn't had an excuse handy.
In truth, Max's coworkers didn't want him to be there, either. They had secretly hoped that he wouldn't come. Everyone else was going, though, so they felt bad not asking. Now they wished they hadn't
Here he was, though, sitting around a table in a seedy local pub, waiting for "The great Garbo: Magician and Hypnotist". Probably just another hack who was filling time between kiddy birthday parties. The show was supposed to have started ten minutes ago, but hadn't, and now Max was being forced to socialize with people who he spent a great deal of effort trying to avoid most of the time. It was crap, and he wasn't happy about it.
In truth, Max was very unhappy in general, but in a way that his brain was unable to put into concrete words. He'd been unhappy for so long, in fact, that he didn't even recognize that he was unhappy. He had just long ago come to the conclusion that the world was unpleasant, and he was the only person who understood that. Everyone else was a foolish prat who could barely keep from being distracted long enough by the next shiny toy to notice.
He regarded his mostly empty beer that he had been nursing. He heard his co-workers talking about some new superhero movie when the lights finally dimmed and a man walked onto the beer-stained stage and threw his cape (the **** had a cape!) dramatically over his shoulder. "Good evening, my fine ladies and gentlemen! I, the Great Garbo, welcome you. You may have seen so called 'magic' before, but I promise you that when you leave here tonight, you will be filled with awe and wonder!"
Max yawned, rather loudly, to glares from his co-workers, as Garbo continued his spiel. He looked lazily around the room, hoping to catch the eye of the waiter for another drink. If he was going to be forced to watch this swill, he was going to at least be liquored up.
By the time Max looked back towards the stage, Garbo had wrapped up, and was starting. He began with a number of standard tricks with rings and never-ending handkerchiefs. Each time, Max would mumble something under his breath.
"...Obviously had it up his sleeve"
"Trick ring, there's clearly some sort of mechanism there"
"...had that deck set up before"
Meanwhile, his co-workers shushed him as they attempted, in vain, to enjoy the show.
Soon, though, the magician got more creative, juggling a set of ***** that turned into doves, which then flew back into his hands as ***** again. Then he turned his entire coat from dingy black to a brilliant red with a wave of his hand. Max remained steadfast in his desire to remain unimpressed. Surely this was some sort of electronic trickery. He stifled another yawn, then decided to go to the restroom.
He got up, and tapped one of his co-workers on the shoulder. Was it Reed? Or James. His co-worker looked at him warily. "Hey James, I need to take a **** Need to get through". He looked annoyed. Must've been Reed. "Can't you wait until the act is over?". Max rolled his eyes, and then mustered up as much sarcasm as he could (which was quite a lot). "I'm sure the 'Great Garbo' won't miss me. I'll just be a minute". Reed (yes, definitely Reed) sighed and got up to pull his chair back so Max could get out. Max picked his way through the surprisingly large crowd towards the bathrooms, not apologizing on the way, when he heard a voice. "You sir, you would like to volunteer, would you not?"
Max turned, and Garbo was looking at him expectantly. He hadn't heard what Garbo had been talking about. He recovered his wits and responded "Nah, I'm sure one of these simpletons would love to, though". From the crowd where he had left he heard someone yell "Oh come on, Max, maybe he can hypnotize you into having a sense of ******* humor". Max gave the finger in the general direction of the voice, earning him a few boos from the crowd. Garbo put his hand up to calm the crowd. "Come now...Max, is it? Surely you've been impressed with some of the show tonight?". Max scoffed. "I'm impressed that you're able to make a living off of parlor tricks", he said, before turning back towards the bathroom.
"Max, I think you need to come up here"
Max suddenly stopped. He felt like he had been going somewhere else...but that couldn't be the case, he was supposed to be going onto the stage. He turned and amiably made his way up the few stairs
"Now Max seems to be unimpressed with the show. Shall I show him some real magic?"
The crowd clapped
Max wondered how he'd gotten on stage. He had been going towards the bathroom....he needed to...
"Max, you seem unhappy to be here. I think I know what'll cheer you up, though."
Garbo reached into his pocket, and pulled out a small rubber ball.
Max suddenly came back to himself. "I don't know what drugs you gave me to convince me to get up here, but this show is over and I'm leaving. I'll be sure to let the police know that your show relies on your audience being high"
Garbo grinned a toothy grin as Max walked away, and then spoke right before Max got down the first step, dragging each word out carefully.
"Who's...a...good....boy"
Max stopped and considered this. I mean...he certainly wasn't _bad_. There was certainly room for improvement, for sure, but he wasn't bad, so he must be good. He slowly turned and stared at Garbo, and was surprised as his mouth started moving.
"I am."
Wait. What? Max's mind reeled and his eyes widened in fear, but he did not run. His legs didn't want to move. His eyes seemed to be locked onto the ball. That looked like a really nice ball. He wanted it.
Garbo took a step forward.
"Who's a good boy"
This time Max answered more confidently. "I am. I'm a good boy"
The crowd clapped and whistled, though they weren't sure what they were seeing.
Garbo moved the ball back and forth, and Max watched it intently.
He wished Garbo would throw the ball.
"Who's a good boy!"
"Me! I'm a good boy!"
"Whosagoodboy!"
"I am! I am! I'm a good boy!"
Max had fallen down on all fours at this point, though he barely noticed. Everything seemed to be growing in size.
"Who's a good boy!"
I am!
"Who's a good boy!"
(I am!)
Woof!
"Do you want the ball?!"
(Yes! Yes, throw the ball!)
(Oh god, what's happening?!)
Woof! Woof!
"Do you want it?!"
(Make it stop!)
(Yes! Throw it!)
Max could smell so many things, now. He smelled the beer, he smelled Reed's aftershave. He smelled the strangeness that Garbo reeked of. Garbo scared him, but Garbo also had a ball.
Garbo finally relented and threw the ball, and a yellow streak flashed by him as an excitable Golden Retriever ran to intercept it.
Max picked up the ball in his mouth and stood proudly. There was still something scratching at his brain, though, and he couldn't figure out what it w--what had happened? Everything was wrong. He couldn't stand up. Max wanted to yell for help, but to do that he would need to drop the...
...ball! He had the ball! The man who threw it was calling for him. He ran back towards the man, who pointed at the ball. The man wanted the ball, but Max didn't want to give it back. It was his ball. Suddenly, the man had a treat. Max dropped the ball and took the treat. He heard a loud sound and he turned to see...
..the crowd. The crowd was up on their feet cheering. His mind filled with fear again as he realized that something was terribly wrong. He felt wrong, everything looked and sounded and smelled wrong. He was a....
"Good boy, Max. Good boy!"
Max received a pat on the head, and the scratching at the back of his head faded a little. "Crate, Max", said the man, pointing to a small crate at the edge of the stage that several people in the audience could have sworn wasn't there at the start of the show. Max ran to the crate, where he found a bone and a squeak toy, which he bit into to hear the satisfying noise that it made. Laughter echoed from the outside of the crate as the man closed the door.
"Everyone, a round of applause for my assistant Max!"
Suddenly Max resurfaced. He was acutely aware now that he was in a cage. Fear gripped him. Surely his co-workers had noticed! He strained to look through the bars of the crate. He spotted them, and they were applauding excitedly. He saw, with trepidation, that his coat was no longer on the chair where he'd left it. He had been erased from their memories. A guttural terror crept up through his stomach which became a frightened whimper as the sound was forced through his new snout. No one seemed to hear him.
Max lost track of time, but eventually the show ended and everyone left. They wouldn't remember what happened, only that they were left with a feeling of awe and wonder upon leaving. They wouldn't remember Max. At this point, Max was curled up in the back corner of the crate, unwilling to move even as Garbo opened it, reached in, and started scratching his head.
Suddenly, as if the final structural support of a dam had been breached, the endorphins from the scratch overwhelmed what remained of Max. He was filled with the warmth of something he had been unable to feel his whole life. His tongue lolled out of his mouth and he started panting excitedly.
Max was happy.
Feb 11, 2019
Feb 11, 2019 at 7:26 PM UTC
It's that flittery fluttery
legs feeling buttery
suddenly stuttering
feeling I'm feeling
that's reeling me in
I'm falling, quite breathless
and careless
into your arms where I rest
to slowly let the air
back into my chest
Jan 5, 2019
Jan 5, 2019 at 2:41 PM UTC
It starts with a tickle to my heart
tries to gently push my lips apart
I resist, much to it's consternation,
not giving in to it's polite provocation
It bounces around in my brain, so distracting!
Ever so slowly I feel my discipline cracking
My heart starts to race, my eyes turn to steel
I must stand my ground! I simply can't yield!
You look into my eyes
sigh
my last defense broken...
How could I ever have stopped these words being spoken?
I love you
.
Feb 7, 2017
Feb 7, 2017 at 9:12 PM UTC
I'm overcome with sadness
It's not the biting sadness
The choked sobs
that are brought about
by the jolt of a sudden death
or the fresh sting of
a broken relationship
It's not the aching sadness
The somber introspection
of missed opportunities,
of wasted days
of long lost loves
It's not the oppressive sadness
that depression brings,
wrapping around your head
in suffocating silence
that leaves you numb to the world
that makes you believe that happiness was
only a fairy tale
Rather...
It's the warm sadness
as the tinges of autumn begin to show
and you realize that the summer
was never meant to last forever
It's a familiar sadness as you realize
that everyone changes
and the person you once were
no longer exists, for better or worse
It's the sadness that nostalgia
tows along with fond memories
of summer vacations
of drunken antics
of foolish lust
of fading friendships
The sadness that tells you that
"Things will never be this way again"
But also reminds you that they were never supposed to be
and that's perfectly alright
Aug 25, 2016
Aug 25, 2016 at 11:01 PM UTC
When you look into my eyes
can you see the starry skies?
Soaring high above the clouds
as we cut ourselves from earthly ties
With your arms about my waist
we'll leave behind this lonely place
searching for the hidden keys
to unlock the riddles of time and space
So Allons-y and Geronimo
through the unknown vale we shall go
your fingers interlaced with mine
we'll dance the stars 'til they lose their shine
Sep 16, 2015
Sep 16, 2015 at 12:31 AM UTC
I've got that itch
that feeling
that maybe I've outgrown
my little section of map
It's time to blur the state lines
It's time to expand the boundaries
United States of whatever the hell I want.
There isn't much to it, really...
Just me and a gas pedal and a general direction
a little classic rock to keep me company
Simplicity.
Driving is so much more enjoyable
when you have nowhere else to be
Chasing the sun
Until the moon catches up
**** roads.
Bring me that horizon
Aug 1, 2015
Aug 1, 2015 at 2:23 AM UTC
Lewis had taken his date antiquing. It seemed the kind of sophisticated, adult activity that he felt would reinforce the fact that he was, in fact, a sophisticated adult. Never mind that he knew next to nothing about antiquing...except that it was a thing sophisticated adults apparently did.
It was clear within the first twenty minutes or so that she wasn't really feeling it.
She was friendly and amicable, but it was clear that she was being polite for the sake of being polite. It was the kind of polite that meant she wouldn't be returning his phone calls tomorrow. For his part, he didn't make a fuss. He played his role and continued the date as if it meant something.
He even went so far as to purchase an ornate mirror at the last shop they visited. A mirror he'd probably never have even looked at on a typical day.
Lewis dropped his date off at her flat, insisted on walking her to her door (had to keep up appearances), and gave her a brief hug before going back to his car. The mirror was wrapped up in the back seat of his small Toyota, making it impossible to use his rearview mirror.
He didn't even bother taking it out of the car when he got home. Perhaps, he thought, someone would steal it and save him the trouble of pitching it.
The next morning, to his annoyance, it still filled up his back seat. He had to go to work, and he figured he'd have to get it out of the car sooner or later, so he pulled it out and awkwardly managed to get it into his front door, where he left it leaning against the wall of his front hallway.
Lewis walked by the mirror almost every day for a week before he finally decided to hang it up. He had bought it, after all...might as well make use of it. He hung it up in the hallway and then largely forgot it existed. It wasn't until several months later that he discovered its strange properties.
He had been running late for work, and in his hurry had spilled coffee over his shirt. His initial annoyance at having to change was replaced with a sharp pain as the hot coffee burned through his shirt. He was haphazardly unbuttoning the shirt while walking by the mirror when he stopped. He looked again. The coffee stain had disappeared. Lewis finished unbuttoning the shirt and looked at his chest, where he found no mark or sign he had even had an injury. Thinking himself crazy, he ran back to the kitchen to find that there was, indeed, spilled coffee still on the table.
That had been the beginning.
The power had gone quickly to his head, as power is wont to do. He could change just about anything in his environment, so long as he was clever and could do it in front of the mirror. The more he focused, the more accurate the results were. He imagined that he was holding the deed to a mansion that was for sale downtown. He found that not only was this the case, but the mirror had taken care of all the pesky details that would have otherwise conflicted with this. He imagined his bank account filled to the brim with money. Lewis imagined a whole new life for himself.
It was at this point that he decided to test the limits of his new found power. He stood at the mirror in his underwear. Not horrible looking by any means, but definitely not an attractive man by most standards. His hair, oily and unkempt, fell listlessly down on his forehead. a paunch belly accentuated knobby knees and elbows. His face was rather round and a bit pudgy, though fairly average overall. He looked himself over disdainfully, and begin to concentrate.
First his stomach started shrinking, as if someone was letting the air out of it. It flattened, and abdominal muscles etched themselves into the skin. The rest of his body followed suit, transforming itself into his ideal. An alpha male. A leading man. At the end of it all, he stood in front of a stranger. Even his eyes had changed. They looked back at him through the mirror, full of confidence and a spark of defiance. He almost caught a mischievous smile playing at his lips.
The change was immediate. Between the money and the new face, he became social elite, hosting parties, attending events. The mysterious newcomer, whose fortune seemed to have appeared out of thin air. He relished every minute of it. Instead of chasing people, begging to be noticed, people were begging to be noticed by him. It was everything he ever wanted, until she came into his life.
She was an environmental lawyer for a large law firm. She had it all. Intelligence...strength...beauty. Her name was Claire. She could stare right through him. She didn't care about his power. She didn't care about his charm. The more he tried to win her over, the more she pulled away. That, of course, did nothing to deter him. If anything, it made him desire her more. It was driving him insane.
Things finally broke down. He was at yet another party, but he was no longer enjoying himself. He hadn't been enjoying himself for weeks. He sat at the bar, downing glasses of alcohol almost carelessly. He saw her outside on the balcony, and he stumbled his way over to her. He managed to slur out something along the lines of "Hey baby" along with some semblance of a crude pickup line, which earned him a martini hat and five red marks across his perfectly shaped face.
He drove home, managing to get his car mostly in his driveway (that poor mailbox never saw it coming). He lumbered into his house, intending to fall asleep, when he walked by the mirror. Suddenly, his inebriated brain had an amazing thought. Why should he continue chasing her? He had a mirror that granted him anything he wanted.
He stood in front of the mirror. Once again, he almost imagined that his reflection was sneering at him, but he put it out of his mind. He imagined Claire, in all her perfection, deeply in love with him. He continued to focus, as much as his mind would allow him, when suddenly he felt hands around his waist. He turned around, and found her standing behind him, beckoning him forward.
She led him up to his room and laid him upon the bed. At first, he was ecstatic, but as the night continued, he became uncomfortable. She was wrong. She was not natural. She was focused fully on him as she had her way, but he was unable to meet her gaze. Every time he did, her face seemed to move out of focus, like a dark shadow was covering her. He couldn't linger there long, and it filled him with dread. Eventually the alcohol took its toll, and he fell into a fitful sleep, with her wrapped faithfully around him.
The next morning, Lewis went back to the mirror and wished her away. Then he panicked. He called one of his acquaintances and discovered that the actual Claire was still alive and well. It had not been her. He felt relieved, but this quickly turned to depression as he fell into a chair, racked with guilt at what he had brought into the world, however briefly. Unfortunately, he wouldn't get a chance to make any more mistakes.
The next night, Lewis found himself awake. It was about 3 AM. He hadn't remembered waking. Nor did he remember walking down the stairs to the mirror, but here he was. He stood and stared at the mirror, back to the man he had become. He smiled that mischievous smile. Wait. He hadn't smiled. Why was he smiling? Lewis attempted to move away, but he was stuck in place. The mirror version of himself allowed its smile to widen, and Lewis felt his mouth tugging upwards to accommodate. The reflection raised its arm, and Lewis helplessly raised his arm as well.
Lewis vaguely noticed the entire room he was in filling with a dense fog. The rest of the world blurred out into obscurity except the mirror with the devilish face of Lewis's counterpart. The reflection spoke, and Lewis's mouth moved along with the words. "I sure appreciate you helping me out of there. Hope you don't mind hanging out for awhile." He flashed that terrible grin. "I'll see you around"
Lewis waved goodbye, and his reflection stepped away from the mirror...leaving him in darkness.
Apr 4, 2015
Apr 4, 2015 at 11:16 PM UTC