Patty

Patty jumped out of the way when an empty soda bottle came flying down the hall. "Idiot!" someone shouted. She couldn’t help but agree. Patty continued down the hall to her locker, keeping her eyes open for any more flying objects. She opened the small drawer in her locker she kept makeup in, and opened it, retouched her pink lipstick and grabbed the eyeliner she’d borrowed from Stacie. Now Patty was ready to try to scrape together a group of friends willing to help out with the foam tank at the school fund-raiser. Anything to help the public school system.

Passion

It was a cool dark Saturday night. She lit one last candle before he walked in to see her dressed like the little vixen she was. When he arrived, tired from a long day at work, he wondered if she was just a figment of his imagination. "My Beta Kappa sisters gave me the idea." She smiled as he walked toward her, his body now buzzing with excitement. Her heart pounded like a drum as she ripped his shirt from the Princeton Charter Club off. She kissed him with such an intensity, he felt it rock him, body and soul.

Creativity

A long time to have words lost. Missing the free flow. Desiring to express, yet nothing seems to emerge. Seeking an outlet, a trigger, something to make all those words come back again. So many ideas, so many interesting starts. The trouble is making an end, completing, thinking it all the way through. Getting up the motivation to do, not just get excited, but to create. Is it possible to make something of nothing, to make something worth making. Strange how creativity stalls, sputters, and then sometimes can flow like water. How can the creativity be made to flow again?

It's Okay

She stands up and looks out at the faces staring back. For a moment terrified, everyone watching her every move. Then she notices the expressions, calm, anticipating, and kind. She was always so afraid of being judged. Two girls then lean in and whisper to each other. She wonders if they are talking about her, then thinks, ‘who cares’. She then smiles, realizing everyone is judged to a point in this situation, and she can only be as good as she can. She fights to please herself now and no one else. She begins to speak and breathes, it’s okay.

Faded Road

So long gone down the road, hard to look back and see anything that resembles anything recognizable. Started out with the best of intentions, and the strongest of determination. How quickly it all falls to the ground. Intentions fade into habits that get lost when all will to continue ceases. Where once the thoughts and ideas flowed freely, now is nothing but the vague notion of where all those ideas went. Trailing along a path that is no longer clear, the footsteps stagger about, hoping for some alternate road. Questionable there is passion enough left to follow any other path.

Carry with you

As the world begins to crumble around you, and all that lies in your wake are broken dreams and strewn regrets, stop a moment and look. Stare it down, refuse to be afraid. The instinct is to run, to flee as fast and as far as you can. But perhaps if you can just stand and look back and not be consumed by what follows you, it will cease to haunt you. Your past is forever tied to you, never to be truly cut free. The key is to not allow yourself to be destroyed by the things you carry.

Drabbles

Drabble on, I seem to get stuck sometimes. It seems like such writings should have some kind of rhythm, like a poem. So many drabbles I have tried to start, but only end with the delete key. None of these will ever be masterpieces, but I can’t seem to just let them be a scattered mess. Though in reality that is all they really are. A scattered mess of ideas, from pure fiction, to carefully constructed reflections of my feelings. So hard to say something meaningful in exactly one hundred words. Make it sound thoughtful, not just some jumbled mess.

Ending

Waiting for an ending. A little terrifying as you try and stare it down. Still not feeling ready to let go. Why it all has to feel so final. Yet somehow it seems you’ll never see these faces again. Every walk down that path, or through that hallway, starts to feel like it could be the last. When it all started with so many hopes, and dreams. So much promise of all the things you desired, now fallen to the ground, dust in the wind. Continually turning around, hoping to make this feeling, this moment linger just a little longer.

Don't

Don’t say see you later, when we will never meet again. Don’t ask me how I am, if you really don’t even care. Don’t tell me it will be alright, when you don’t know that for sure. Don’t just be friendly, if you don’t want to be my friend. Don’t say I’m funny, when you’re really laughing at me. Don’t tell me lies, when you know it will hurt more in the end. Don’t promise me anything, because you can’t promise it won’t all go wrong. Don’t walk away without leaving something behind, because I still want something to remember.

Perceptions

Ever feel like people should come with labels? To tell you all the vital factual information. Would you alone get to walk with out one? Probably not. How then would you label yourself? Could you? What would others consider vital information about you? What label do you think you already wear on your back? I never know how others see me. I guess I assume people see me as I do. Perhaps that’s one of my biggest problems. Even though I know we all perceive differently. What do people perceive of me? Is it more correct than what I do?

His Park

He looks back and forth before stepping out. Looking up at the fluffy white clouds as he stepped up onto the other side of the street. He smiled and waved at the old lady who ran the corner market. Stopping at the corner for traffic. Nearing the park he spotted his favorite swing was free. His step quickened and he sat down in the swing. He looked to his left at the kids on the jungle gym. This park had been his favorite at that age, and still was. He came here to reflect, to seek solace in hard times.

Consumed

Every few minutes it’s inevitable. A thought that does nothing but distract the mind from everything else. Maybe it’s the change of season, or maybe it’s just random. But guys are on the brain, and there’s nothing to be done about it. It changes how my days run, how I sleep. It’s disruptive, but somehow I can’t stop it. Maybe I don’t want to stop it. Or I only want it to stop when I finally get my way. I want this to end differently than all the times before. I don’t want it to wear off until I’m satisfied.

Behind the Curtain

She spotted him as he slipped behind the curtain. Curiosity made her follow, she pushed through the dark velvet and saw him standing there. He looked at her a little surprised, then smiled at her. He asked what she was doing here. She only shrugged, and moved to go. He motioned her to come all the way in, asked what she thought. She said it was nicer in here than out there. He nodded and smiled at her again. There was a moment of silence between them, then he said she looked nice tonight. She blushed slightly and moved closer.

Lust

He grabs her arm and pulls her in. Click, lock, no one else can come in. Their lips lock, their hands begin to wander. The passion takes over as fingers seek buttons, and their covers are quickly shed. Her fingernails dig into the soft flesh of his back. A soft growl, somewhere between pleasure and pain rumbles in his throat. Her back against the wall, she hooks a leg on his hip. They pay no matter to the people passing by the other side of the door. This moment can not wait. Patience is not to be had any longer.

In the Darkness

In the darkness everything is obscured. The vision is cut down, cut off, everything is unclear. The little dots of light only serve to sooth the other senses. Giving the impression we can see through the darkness now. Twisted visions all the while leading us astray onto strange paths. The eyes adjust to the altering conditions the best they can. So poor the vision in darkness is though. Even with the brightest of flashlights, darkness remains just beyond the reach of the light. So many ways for the light to twist and bend, leading us to places we never planned.

Note: I know, it's April Fool's Day and I'm all serious. What can I say, April Fool's Day has never been a holiday I was much on embracing.

Safety Wall

She reached out to touch, smooth, cold. Leaning back she breathed. Her safety, where she could see all. No one could come up behind her. Everything covered with her peripheral. Then it all went dark when she closed her eyes. Still so much noise. All the talking, movement, life going on. She could black out the sights, but the sounds remained to assault her ears. Eyes open again, moving from person to person, from tree to bench. Leaned against the wall, she was none the less a part of the scene. Regardless if anyone else noticed, regardless of her wills.

Drifted

She sat as things rolled by her. Lost in her own world. She saw the cars pass, she saw the people out the window. She heard the faint rumble of the conversation behind her. The details of the faces, the color of the cars, the words that were spoken, none of that registered to her. Her mind was too removed from typical thought right now to notice such things. She tilted her head to look up at the sky. Blue, interrupted by streaks of hazy clouds. Her mind drifted toward them. She blinked her eyes a moment just to breath.

Gravity

He sat above the rest, looking down. Wondering if anyone else was aware of the perspective a place like this gave. Everyone was so small, so insignificant. His feet hung over, swinging lightly. A sharp breeze stung his face, he did not shiver. He had no more sense of feeling cold or warm. His body had gone numb to the elements. As his mind went numb to the world. Looking at a penny he pondered gravity. He decided to test out those old laws. Held the penny out, stood, and let go. He and the penny racing to the ground.

Survival

She turned and looked away. No longer willing to look. To see as the world fell around her. Closing her eyes, covering her ears. Just shut it all out and it might all fade away. The voices will not be silenced. They scream to her. Her hands pull from her ears in defeat, fingers tighten in fists. She opens her eyes and screams. If only she can drown out the other voices. If she doesn’t see them or hear them, she can pretend they don’t exist. If she can just stand a little longer, she might survive until the sunrise.

Questions?

What if you could go back and alter something in your life? Would you do it? Would you have any notion of what impacts it would have on everything else around you? In an attempt to change yourself, would you change your whole world? Would that world even remotely resemble the one you know? Or would it seem that anything about yourself would have so little an impact on the world around, that the changes would be so subtle as to barely notice? Can any of us really know what kind of an impact our presence has on the world?

Reality

Reality. It’s something we gotta live with. Like it or not, it’s how things go. How the world spins and fate unfolds. We can choose our actions, but not always the outcomes. We can choose our words, but not those of others. So much of reality out of our hands. Dependent on everyone around us to see how things will turn out. Some push the bounds of their reality, never content to let themselves be bound. While others sit back, just allowing reality to act on them, however begrudgingly accepting their own realities for what they are, good or bad.

Just a little Push

Pushed just a little higher, funny what they can do. Looking down and the giggle can’t be helped. Strange they are so amusing. Just a little confidence booster. A good mood achieved through the funniest of ways. A little extra bounce, a little extra exposure, and wondering if they have also attracted a little extra attention. Feeling a little bit bolder. Now this is a feeling that one could get used to. Six months to take that step, and will the bravery be there to make a second. Perhaps so, just look down and giggle again at the valley below.

Body

A body. We all live in one. And each is a little different than the next. Apparently variety is the spice of life. Yet we get these specific images that are held up as the most this or that. Most of which are completely unreachable for the normal person. I have issues with my body, however, do not muster the motivation to change it. Will I ever have my perfect body? I do not think my body will ever look how I would truly want it to, at least not naturally. So what is the answer? I don’t know yet.

Temporary Solution

Grab hold, to what, it doesn’t matter. Anything strong enough to hold me back from another slip further down. It doesn’t really matter if that landing leads down a tunnel of something else dark, at least I’m under my own will for a moment. So where does the path go? Sometimes out, sometimes a slow decent even further into darkness. Sometimes it simply leads back to the fall. But anything for a quick fix. Anything to get me away from myself. To get away from that part of my mind that takes pleasure in ripping another hole in my soul.

Suicide

How simple it would be. Sit down, and pull out the blade. A little cut here, little slice there. Feel the sting, but the pain will fade away. All that pain will just drain away with the blood. Everything will fade away. Warm and dark it drips. Watching the water turn pink and then red. The vision blurs and darkness begins to reach out its arms. Breath in and out one more time, till it all fades away. Just take the razor to the skin, cutting down along the vein. Somehow it would all just be so simple to end.

I'm Sorry

I’m sorry for all the things I am. I’m sorry for all the things I am not and likely will never be. I’m sorry for being something you never wanted in life. I’m sorry for the time I took of you. I’m sorry for all that I did. I’m sorry for all you did too. I’m sorry for never being able to be perfect. I’m sorry for the things that will probably never be said. I’m sorry it has all come down to casual, occasional pleasantries. I’m sorry that we will probably never be what I hoped we would be.

The Ride

It spins and turns and tosses you around. You reach for a handle to hold. When will it stop? It has to stop you tell yourself. Sometime it will have to stop, because that is just the way these things work. Finally it slows, you get your feet back on the ground. Looking back at the ride you try to think what made you get on it in the first place, and if you will again. But you will again, you always do. Again and again you take the ride. Each time you hope it will somehow turn out differently.

Warm

A chill goes through the body, curling up to stay warm. Finger tips like icicles. The whistle blows, the water has boiled. Out from under the blanket and into the kitchen. Make the tea, turn up the heater, back to the warm blanket. Cupping the mug, the hands warm. Steam rises to the face, pale flesh flushes. Lips to the mug, a long sip. Feeling the warmth slip down the throat to the belly. Slowly warming the core of the body. Lips warm, press together after another sip. The wonderful burn as the liquid marks its trail. Finally feeling warm.

Not that

Not that strong. Not that smart. Not that dumb. Not that normal. Not that unique. Not that pretty. Not that thin. Not that fat. Not that strange. Not that bad. Not that good. Not that wrong. Not that right. Not that lucky. Not that unlucky. Not that pessimistic. Not that hopeful. Not that crazy. Not that sane. Not that balanced. Not that nice. Not that cruel. Not that confident. Not that happy. Not that sad. Not that popular. Not that cool. Not that lame. Not that open. Not that closed. Not that little. Not that much. I’m not that girl.

Darkness Inside

Crawl inside the darkness of my mind. Searching to find a spark of light, to make things a little clearer. Fumbling around, taking hold of something. Feeling it all over, trying to define what it is. Wondering which strings to tie, and which will unravel the last bits of sanity within. Chaos and confusion reign. Without light to sort through the stacks. The proper places for everything remains a guessing game. Trying to fit pieces back together, make it all as whole as possible. Knowing it won’t remain, something else will come and make a mess of it all again.

Habit

It is kind of funny how things you once treasured so dearly become just another thing. How activities you once could not get enough of barely hold your interest. Passion becomes habit and you start to wonder how much you wish to hold onto something that is only habit. Yet you still recall loving it, and wonder if you will regret anything later should you give up and abandon it. You press on, on a good day still deriving some good feeling from the thing. On a bad day it leaves you dry, wondering why you still continue with it.

Abyss

There are some things I understand, and some I just don’t. It can be a strange endeavor trying to logically get your head around something you don’t understand. Especially when that thing you don’t understand, is your own mind. Sometimes it’s a little like standing at the edge of an abyss. There is just no possible way to make any logical sense of the endless darkness. So you either stand and stare at it until it drives you crazy, or turn away from it, attempt to ignore it. Which way is better? I’ve tried both, and I’m really not sure.

Fate's Mind Fuck

Fate is just mind fucking me. I’m beginning to sense a pattern to my life. Just when I resolve to be content with my life as it is, I get tossed a bone. Thinking something will change, something to be happy with it. Only to find that fate has viciously yanked it back. I’m left sitting wondering what I did wrong. Maybe it’s just fate slapping me in the face, reminding me I’m a stupid girl, to stop hoping for more. The tossed bones being the test to see if I will try. It’s just fate’s twisted little mind fuck.

Nature of Destruction

Flash. A bolt of lighting streaks through the sky. It is chased by the booming roll of thunder. The sky is dark again for a moment, clouds so grey they almost fade to black. Water pours from the sky. A rain so hard it seems the whole land might be washed away. Relentless wind kicks through the streets. Trees lean, struggling desperately to stay standing. Another strike of lighting and a tree snaps and flames erupt. It is raw nature. The elements of nature. Part ultimate battle of nature for which element is most powerful, part beautiful symphony of chaos.

Dreaming of Spring

The feel of the warm sun hitting my arms. A light breeze keeps it from feeling too hot. I sit, and close my eyes behind my sunglasses and tilt my head toward the sun. There is something relaxing and energizing about the sun. I open my eyes again, for a quick squinted look through my sunglasses at the sun. Flowers are blooming again, everything is bright and green. The birds are vocal, people are a little more vibrant. The breeze tosses a bit of hair across my face. Brushing it back a humming bird flutters about. Spring has finally come.

Time

Time. Such an oddity. Days go by, looking forward to what comes next. Then by chance, hit by a memory. Carried back, suddenly aware of how much time has passed. Things never thought of being so long ago, now 10 or 20 or more years behind. And time continues rolling on. There is no stopping it, no slowing it down to take a moment. It keeps passing on by, leaving behind chances. Near misses and missed opportunities. Regrets and happy moments. Skipped class, made the earlier bus, in the right place. It all falls behind to the passage of time.

Fantasy

Create a new life, a new self, someone totally different from you. Play at things you may never see or do or experience. The distances one can travel in the mind are infinite. Dance amongst the stars. Float in the clouds. Kiss the most beautiful person in the world. Live happily ever after. Save the world, be the hero. Anything is true to your mind. When real life lets you down, let your imagination save you. Rich, in love, happy. Where you speak with ease to the person you desire. They respond saying all the right things. Fade to black.

Window Down in the Rain

Window rolled down. Cool air hitting the skin. Cloudy skies let loose drops of rain. Breath it in and drive. Music blaring, in no rush to get there. One of those moments where the road is a friend. The air has a calming quality. Sorting through thoughts, letting go of all feelings. Just you and the road. Some how there is an innate freedom in it. Regardless of the rain, it even somehow makes it all the more perfect. Hand out the window, riding the wind. Exhale, breath again. It’s perfect, just cruising, with the window down in the rain.

Electric Bodies

They sat looking at each other. He ran his fingers ever so lightly down her arm. She loved that, the little tingles his touch sent through her body. She smiled, eyes closed for a moment. He watched her face. He loved watching her reactions. She looked at him, his tongue just between his lips. That tongue was such a turn on. She licked her own lips as she watched his tongue slip out of sight, into his mouth. He smiled now, brushing her lips with his. No going back now. His hands, her hips, his butt, her breasts, everything electric.

Shattered

A piercing scream and a glass crashes to the floor. The bitter silence broken. It had been so quiet for so long, it was nearly deafening. All the anger, rage, fear, resentment, sadness, hopelessness building for so long. It was almost inevitable that it would have to come out sometime. And come out it did. An explosion so fast, that it was almost in slow motion. It had been a long time coming, yet somehow it still seemed unexpected. A chair takes flight through the room, a photograph shaken from the wall, and with it the lives of a family.

Shit

Shit, sometimes you just have one of those days where you feel like shit. Where everyone is full of shit. For no explainable reason, shitty. Just something rubs the wrong way. And the day is gone to shit. You just want to scream, or tell everyone to piss off, or sit in a dark corner. Though somehow that will not relive the shitty feeling. Everyone, everything annoys you. You in turn annoy everyone else. Just because your day is inexplicably full of shit. So you have to sit back and deal with it. Hopefully the shitty feeling will go away.

Create

The need to create, to make something. A story, an image, still, motion. Say something, feel something, express something. Something interesting, something relatable, something thoughtful. The desire to create and the thought to create though are two such different things. So often they do not go hand in hand, thus making the endeavor ever so tough. Must produce something creative. Something not so blah, contrived, cliche, lame as last time. Must create something that can be returned to and enjoyed again, not loathed. Paint the perfect picture, be it with light, motion, words, whatever the medium, that is the aim.

Like a Cat in Heat

He’s cute, so is he. So many guys, so many with different qualities that make them attractive. Each of them so out of reach, so unattainable. Wondering if I really want to attain, or if it is just hormones over acting, as they tend to do from time to time. I liken it to a cat in heat, nearly every male in my path, I can find something attractive about them. Voice, eyes, body, face, hands, laugh. I can feel my senses perk up when a particularly attractive one passes close or speaks to me. It can be damn distracting.

Hiding Away in Plain Sight

I smile, look away. Trying not to linger too long. A fear of revealing, showing too much. Never to be too open. I end up being so closed off as to never make any real connection. Small talk, chatter on topics relating to class or work. Never to fully trust anyone, not even myself. Sometimes least of all myself. Moments of confidence quickly wither. When outside, sunglasses firmly in place, the easy way of avoiding eye contact. Careful, conscious not to look longer than to glance. Look too long the wrong idea might be gotten, or the right one betrayed.

Multiple Choice Exam

How much should I worry? How much should I cram? Or do I just relax sleep, and hope for the best from multiple guess? That time of the year again, when exams come round and round. Scantron bubbles which fits best. This week’s test is Dino anatomy. Not a whole lot of material, just three classes worth. But still there are many terms to know and where they go. Still, multiple choice, or multiple guess as an old professor of mine liked to call it, gives hope to all. Review the terms, take your best shot, one in four chance.

Observation

She stood looking around, breathing in the fresh cool air. There was something about the day, calming, reflective. It put her in a good state of mind. She felt good, mentally clear. Everything just felt more. There was no feeling she could define though. She watched as people passed by. Sometimes lingering a little longer on this face or that one. Something would draw her attention in them. Raise a curiosity of who they were. Looking down next at a dancing leaf on the cement. Observing a moment before her mind moved on to a new thought, a new observation.

Comfort

She reached for his arm. He moved to pull away, trying to hide. She gripped tighter and stepped in closer. "Don’t hide from me, please."
"Just let me be." He tried to wipe tears from his face.
"I want to be here for you. I’m not going to think less of you for crying when you fall on troubled times." Refusing to release his arm.
He stared at her a moment, then wrapped himself around her. No sobs were heard, but she could feel the moist tears drop onto her shoulder. An arm around his shoulders, a hand caressed his hair.

Waiting

Back and forth he paces the floor. Waiting, wondering, thinking. The anticipation seems endless. Sitting a moment only to pace again. He glances at the clock on the wall, only minutes have passed. He wonders how that could be possible. It had to be hours at least. Checking his watch, confirms that the clock is correct. Shaking his head, looking around. Gaze wandering from clock to other people to the table, to the potted plant. Letting out an audible sigh, he notes a few sympathetic faces. He rubbed his hands together, glanced at the clock, and forced himself to sit.

Sleep

Sleepy, sleepy, tired now. Long day, long week. Just sleepy. Drift off to dreamland, and count some sheep. They say eight hours a day makes it all okay. Seems too much more, just leaves you tired again. Too much less though and it is not any better. Grumpy, grouchy, the dwarf and the monster in the garbage can we loved as kids. Was their mood all just due to lack of sleep? Ever feel a grand identification with the lyrics of "Who Needs Sleep?" by the Barenaked Ladies? Boy, would I really hate to be the guy in that song.


Note: I know, I'm already skipping days... school's seriously kicking my ass this first week back. Hence the vaguely nonsensical and highly wacked drabble relating to sleep.

Unseen

She woke early, again. Before the sun began to glow. Walking to the kitchen, something changed. She dressed in her clothes from last night, took her bag and slipped out home. He woke when the door closed, looking used to finding her laying around the room. He shrugged though, heading for the shower. She glanced up at the window as she crossed the street, the sun began to glow along the sky. He dried his hair, grabbed some coffee, and started to wonder. He looked outside to see the sun lifting, somehow in all this time, could never see her.


Note: This is the conclusion to the drabble series inspired by "Tuesday Morning".

No Rules to Attraction

He watched her cross the room. Not the most beautiful, or thinnest, or most anything. She was intriguing though. He’d never seen her before, but the way she walked, sat, and spoke to the person next to her drew him in. Suddenly fascinated, suddenly determined to learn who she was. She wiggled a pen between her fingers. Her eyes a deep brown. He glanced away, then back to find her looking at him. His pulse jumped, she smiled at him, shyly, then looked away. He waited his chance, walking over to her. She smiled at him, he smiled back, "hey."

Bed

Lying awake in the dark. They stared at each other, trying to find things to say. He rolled over, facing away. For what seemed like ages she watched the back of his head. The telling rhythm of sleep was clear even from the back. She turned over now too. Her eyes trying to focus on anything in the dark room. A near moonless night, there was only the vague glow of streetlights through the blinds. Shifting, she felt as lonely as she thought she would alone at home. Closed her eyes, waiting for sleep, waiting for the comfort of dreams.


Note: Fifth in the series. Likely just one more to follow.

Night

In the car, streetlights streaking by. They sat in silence. He glanced at her. She wondered if he would ever be so open and real with her. They drew closer to her home. She felt a little lonely thinking of sleeping alone at home. She turned, asked him not to take her home. He nodded, turning to head for his home. She stared out the window at the darkened houses along the street. He set a hand on her knee and gave it a squeeze. She turned her head, crooked smile on her lips, glad not to be alone tonight.


Note: Part 4

Gathering

The room, lively, but mellow. His friends were fun, he was fun to watch with them. It was a new side of him. He joked around, glancing at her time to time. He’d always seemed serious and intellectual to her, this was new. He was goofy, outgoing, even a bit crude. Another of the ‘girlfriends’ pulled her outside for a breather. She was actually a little thankful. They watched through the window while their guys goofed around with people they had known for ages. An intimacy there that neither woman got with their man. A glance of understanding between them.

Note: Number 3 in drabble series.

Morning

She wakes, seeing his sleeping form next to her. She rises to start the coffee. So early the sun was still sleeping. Wandering back with a hot cup she pauses in the doorway, drinking in his body as much as the coffee. Setting the cup down, lifting her camera from the table. Snap, snap, snap. She smiles to herself setting the camera away again. Pacing the room, hot steam under her nose. Her eyes lingered now on the pictures on the wall. So many faces she didn’t know. Sleeping in his bed, but still only granted glimpses to his soul.


Note: This is a follow up to "Rain" and next entry in hopefully a series of drabbles inspired by "Tuesday Morning" by Michelle Branch.

Rain

Walking together, holding hands. He rubs his thumb along hers and a lazy smile crosses his lips. She smiles softly back and leans her head to his shoulder. The chill of the air hits them and they pull closer. She glances up at him and he somehow seems far away now. He stares at the world around him, but is little aware of any of it. She sighs and glances up at the sky, deep, dark clouds moving overhead. A storm was near, anyone could smell it on the air. A shiver up her spine, rain drops caress her cheeks.

Eyes

Blue or green or grey. What color are they today? A little more of one than the other, or equal parts of two or all three. Once as deep and dark as blueberries, now a haze of cool, dulled hues. Altering vaguely day to day. Dependant on what other colors were floating about the scenery. Nothing overly dramatic or shocking. Nothing to be compared to things of nature any longer, no cloudy skies, no sapphires or forests. They just were. They did what they did, and perhaps reflected things unrealized by their bearer. But to her they just were eyes.

Leaving again

He touched her face, a fresh tear wiped away. He had to go again, too often it seemed. She knew he would always return, and with a smile, sweep her up in his arms. He told her not to cry, she tried. She tried hard to not let herself be consumed by the feeling. Each time she swore she would not let the tears fall, and each time they burned down her cheeks. But when they did, he would give her a gentle smile and brush the tears away, telling her that he would miss her more than she knew.

Split decision

Just decided, just now. Always looking for a project, a creative outlet. Hoping something interesting, thoughtful, or useful comes of it. Something to express, something to get out. A rant, a rave, the inane babble of borderline insanity. A new tool or a new vice? A new something to end up going in the trash. What once was so important could become simply habit, or even just forgotten all together. For better or worse it was done. Hope at least something was learned. Just another venture, something to try. Just another reach for meaning in life on a split decision.