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Marina 3d
'They said you were the man they were looking for' I heard.
Turning the opposite direction 
I face him, touching his spine
As of how doubtful I am

'Let go of the man. He is 
Known to ****** you.' Elle spoke.
I know it's clear.
I cannot believe to imagine 
The love
The pain
The blessings I've encountered,

The soft spoken words shivered through my mouth 'I let you go.'
As I awake from the cryogenic slumber I was put in, I find myself walking around a mansion. It must be a century into the future, but everyone still seems to be asleep in their pods.

As I walk around, my feet guide me through a tunnel lit by hanging candelabras, as though they have a life of their own. Few moments later, I find myself standing in front of a of a jagged wooden door with tiny bugs crawling up the dented-scratches and a loose door **** awaiting to be opened to the library that stretches far and wide.

The windows are tinted vintage yellow and air stenched with the musty smell of worn books; heavied with dust. The large maghony table stands alongside the ladders and railings, allowing access to the different levels of the library.

My hand reaches out for a leather-bounded book, as though it was longing to be read and plucked from the ornately carved bookshelf. It is my biography; my breathings worded and memories penned.

Stunned, I ran my fingers along the frayed pages, to find the stories of every person to have crossed paths with stretched out across the pages.

I re-read pages, letting the wordy essence cling to my skin and the embers to re-ignite. I allowed myself to taste the salt and sugar of the sunrise to sunset span with the ones who left inky footprints across my heart. Until I came across a name that started resurfacing from the dustiest parts of my mind.

Out of curiosity I reach out to the protruding mark to find myself holding her biography, and countless pages stained with my name. “I sat there tossing sorrows from one hand to another, trying to let the blue ink gush onto the page in front. I could feel the darkness coaxing my mind, labeling me with names as I held back the tears stinging my eyes. I was an invisible cloak; an outcast who was unwanted.

But then she came, each step paced with confidence. Her curls leaked sunshine into the room; I could feel it warming the cold that layered me. I found her seating herself near me, as the girls behind me laughed like a pack of hyenas, gossiping about the new faces entering.

I found her looming above me, her hair brushing against my forehead “Wow, has anyone told you write really well?” but all I could manage was a shy smile in comparison to her gleaming grin that swallowed her cheeks whole. That was the first time I heard someone say that and then there was something warm, fuzzy, a spark? Happiness? Hope? It felt foreign and different, almost energetic but I craved more.

In the coming days I watched as she drove herself with passion, reaching out to catch stars, blooming herself and handing it to others. She was alive and vibrant. Almost brilliant like lightning, enlightening the sky with her spark like the one that was fuzzing between my cells.

Her presence was alluring, I found myself responding to her wavelengths, wanting to resonate with it; to have purpose, meaning and life. She made me want to untangle myself from the toxic relationships I had. It made me want to stop drinking the poison they fed me. It made me want to crave for good. To nourish my body and to breathe.

She called me on my birthday; no one ever called me on my birthday. The next day she hugged me and turned my hurricanes to a whiff. Weeks after that she invites me to her birthday, pulling me away from my world as I accepted her hand paving paths for me to explore.
I flicked a few grainy pages ahead.

“Are you okay?” She said as she though she could smell the stench of it on me. As though she could see me drowning within myself. And in that moment I let her in, I broke the walls, I let them crash. I let the ocean erupt open through my pores. I let my rusty voice box to voice its cries. Even though I spoke in language that came natural to me; chaos. But she sat there listening patiently, and in that moment I wrote about how her ears were made of empathy, eyes of moonlight that made me feel lighter and blissed.

I watched her move with such zeal that I was mesmerized. She became my muse, my inspiration. So I undressed myself of self-loathing and set out to talk to people and explore. My bruised throat ringed and my chewed tongue wanted to speak. My hands wanted to write for my younger self that stayed quite all this time.

She breathed air into my collapsing lungs, became the brightest of hues in the world of my blues. I was a dead language and she pronounced me with life.

Here I am, a writer. All because of that compliment that left me to weave my sorrows, revertebratating the hope she gave me through my writing. Hoping to provide the same inspiration and passion she inspired me with. She restored the courage in my spine; the faith in my cells and the love into my heart that I tucked safely into inky words hoping someday someone feels the same.

I closed the book as I traced the last line, with a tear in my eye. How could’ve my trivial action have such a profound affect?
The rain came down in heavy sheets. He pulled his soaked hood tighter to protect himself and kept walking.
Where the hell was she?
Would he find her in time?
Or was it already too late?
He wanted nothing but to find her in that moment before she did something dumb and regret filled.
Lightning struck.
There sitting on the bridge railing he saw a dark shape he knew was her.
He rushed towards her calling her name.
She looked back and hurriedly went to stand.
He grabbed her before she could jump, pulling her into his chest.
He could not tell for the rain if she had been crying.
But when opened her mouth to let out the most gut wrenching sob he'd ever heard, he knew that her face was damp with salty tears.
Wrapped in his arms she finally looked at him with nothing but pleading in her eyes. He solemnly looked at her and nodded, promising to keep her safe.
He pulled her closer to his chest.
He knew that she wouldn't be his forever, but he would protect her while she was
This started with a prompt i found on Pinterest and it slowly shifted into a really sad short story so....yeah
Kai Apr 26
sure simple syllable
some say
sho͝or or sh-ur
sure of
shrug sure

we're not really sure what sure means
April 26
Choose a word or phrase you find yourself saying often (e.g. like, totally, hate, really, kind of) and write a poem using it.
Kayla Hardy Apr 1
I remember when I asked you,
October 2, 2017
what if something happens tonight?

I remember when you,
rolled your annoyed eyes
there is zero chance that something will

I remember thinking,
anger flooding my brain
I bet that no one ever thinks it’ll be them

I remember mourning,
the 50 people who died
they never saw it coming

I remember the anxiety,
following me to every concert
maybe tonight someone snuck through

I remember praying,
looking around at all the strangers
I shouldn’t have to fear for my life

I remember shaking my head,
wanting you to listen
we need stricter laws

I remember our fight,
your exhausting arguments
guns don’t ****, people do
We had to write a political/protest poem
Amanda Bird Mar 24
If I'm itching inside my own skin,
If there's a bit of wild carrying on in,
around,
or perhaps behind
perhaps over, around, somewhere besides my eyes,
If I seem unseemingly unladylike today,
I'm sorry.
Scatterbrained? Surely, certainly, you've noticed.
If you know me, you know this.
I carry on, convincingly
all the while my mind careens away.
Dangerously, it careens away.
Away, attacking the menacingly mundane,
away to a place much more pleasant.
Plesently, myriad of melodrama unfold.
I tell myself stories untold.
I'm so sorry I'm scatterbrained, darling.
I do know.
Chrissy Ade Mar 17
A snake will always be a snake
No matter how much you want it to change
You cannot will something to change
When it is comfortable in its skin
A snake will scour the terrains of this earth,
Slithering on its underbelly to patiently wait
For the perfect opportunity to present the perfect victim
A bite that strong will never infuse you with honey,
Sweetening your veins like a cup of coffee
No, a snake will permeate you with venom
Traveling through your blood like a wildfire,
Spreading its poison as fast it can
Burning everything from the inside out
Hoping to **** you in an instant
It feeds on the tragedy for breakfast
But savors the pain for dinner
Accept the nature of its ways
Because trust is foreign to a snake
Believing its heart can be thawed and saved
Is a waste of time
When its wickedness and deceit
Are the only things that can keep it alive
Long time, no post :P I found a writing prompt online where I had to include three specific words: snake, honey and thaw! I hope you guys like the end result of this!
Lily Mar 13
He hurriedly glanced at his wristwatch again,
The shadow of the cross from the steeple
Landing in the middle of the watch.
A sigh echoed through the church courtyard,
And a few rats scurried out of their hide-aways.
They should be here by now.
The moon hung in the sky,
Trying and failing to shed light on what was below.
The harsh noise of a truck on gravel reached his ears,
And he breathed a sigh of relief.
The newcomer parked the truck and lumbered out,
Holding several filthy beer bottles in his large, grimy hands.
“Here you go.”
His voice was gruff, calloused even, as if it was being
Grated like cheese.
Money from the priest’s hands went into the driver’s hands,
And when the priest looked into his eyes,
They spoke legends of ******.
The truck drove away, and
Pretty soon the courtyard was silent again,
Except for the hoot of an owl,
The contented sigh of the priest, and the
Pop of a beer bottle being opened.
My prompt was "my priest drinks too much". Thoughts are welcome! :)
Kayla Hardy Mar 11
Budding with excitement and seemingly pointless fear,
but I held a new life in my hands shown through a *** of all my savings.
My eyes dart wildly in awe of all the different cars,
big ones, small ones, new ones, and foreign ones.
Everyone smiled at us - the dealers and the other buyers who walked out with
shiny, new vessels as if it were nothing.
Nobody knew this was our fifth dealership, even we pretended to lose count
maybe this time we’ll leave with something.
I know they can see how badly I yearn for a car of my very own
that I can say is mine,
that I worked for it,
that I can watch age through the years.
Miles Feb 24
i am reluctant
to face this ocean’s mass
i fear the waves of the past will devour me
if i pursue this seaside quarrel

nevertheless i persist
i must endure this passing tide
watching it rise and fall
the current washes over me

i succeed through it’s finale
after shock of Poseidon’s wrath i remain
the aftermath is serene
a sense of calm exists within me

i have survived this weaponless battle
i have attained this sense of victory
Prompt: Include as many of the following words (or variations on these words) as you can: reluctant, ocean’s, quarrel, serene, victory Also; Refer to a classical deity
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