#FMF – Secret

Joining up with many fellow writers over at Five Minute Friday as we write on a one word prompt for five minutes. Be sure to check out what those around you have written. This place is one of my favourite communities!

Prompt: Secret

Its been about two years. So much confusion, frustration and anger.

From the beginning I knew it wasn’t a good idea, but I kept convincing myself otherwise.

Its not the first time this has happened but perhaps this time it will be the last.

I’ve always found that being just friends with members of the opposite sex (who are single) has been a challenge. I have developed a mindset that can’t see past attraction in the beginning.

There have been friendships that have come to a place of true friendship, though in many I have still questioned my underlying reasons.

I have talked about him with few peope because honestly I had heard enough “Bad idea Janel” from friends.

I said that we were over and done so many times but then I would give up being mad and try again. I don’t know why…perhaps he would be different, perhaps I was delusional.

There were nights I could hardly sleep becaus I was so bothered by what he said and I would try to make sense of it.

There were times when I would be so angry that I would blow up and tell my parents what went down and they would say “why are you doing this again?”

And one night, i said yes to a charade that nearly choked me as I realized just how far from respecting myself I had fallen.

Three weeks ago….i had another conversation with someone who said “Walk away. Do not give in again and pretend that everything is fine”

Its been tough. It is best. Its a constant battle to not berate myself for what the last two years entailed.

That is one of my secrets

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Burning flags

I should have known
From the beginning
There were so many red flags
It looked like a construction site
Gone wrong

At first there was panic
And I revisited
The sins of my youth
In my head
Berating myself
Over and over
Revisiting each wound
It felt like a battlefield
Scars and wounds riddling
And no healing to be found

And then
A strange peace
A word I don’t remember
That sent a tidal wave
Through me
And helped me forget
Washing that all from my mind
From my memory

/ / / /

When you light a match
The fire has limited scope
It burns what is consumable
And then dies slowly
But playing with matches
Usually results in a burn
There is a surface scorch
The pain is real
But its forgetable
Numbed finger tips last only so long

But fire
Also mesmerizes
It lulls
There is a complacency
That happens
When you forget
Its power
Its ferocity
Its destruction

/ / / /

And so
I entered the fray
Eyes wide open
Or half closed
Perhaps fully blinded

I made excuses
For you
I thought I saw
What others didn’t
There were glimpses
Of another you
But they appeared
so irregularly
So fleeting
I though them
Figments
My mind mad

There was a spin
On everything
Nothing was good enough
And your words
Your thoughts
Your world
Was all that mattered
You pushed boundaries
You spoke harshness
Confusion and mind games
Reigned

Over and over
Fury rose up in me
And I swore
No more
And yet I returned
Like a moth
To a flame
Intrigued by light
By warmth
By death

And I did die
Slowly
Over time
So gradually
That I was unaware
Piece by piece
Parts of me were consumed

One day
I said yes
To a proposition
That when spoken
On my lips
Showed just how far
I had let
Myself
My heart
My mind
Be consumed
By you

And I admitted
In whispered words
“We’re using one another”
And even though
I choked
As they passed my lips
I walked out the door
And continued
The façade

There was a
Flicker of shame
That day
An ache that registered
Heart deep
But barely
Touched my surface

I looked up words
Like toxic, obsessive and addiction
Because I knew
All three applied
And I was drowning

I longed for a look from you
But then resented it
I looked for words from you
But then felt the trap
The tiring
The exhaustion
The constant battle
You waged

Wounds were never enough
You wanted a death blow
And ceasing the fight
Leaving the battle
Like a sullen
Spoiled, entitled child
When the war wasn’t enough
You turned your back
On the carnage that remained

I’d like to blame you
For my scars
But some are self inflicted
And I chose this
Macabre dance
Time and again
Even though
I heard the death dirge

I thought I was immune
No, I believed
There was no thought
My mind
My rational self
Lay chained
Silenced
Beaten into submission

Because truth
Would reveal
Just how deep
This noose
Was tightening
And my fight
For breathe
Felt like control

I swatted away
Truth from the lips of others
Like a pesky nuisance
Not letting it
Penetrate too deep
As to keep me alive
Give me breathe
Help me break free

I clung to you
The idea of you
The mirage of you
Though my finger tips burned
Identity being erased
730 days
Innumerable minutes

And I had become
A shade
A mirage
A remnant
Unrecognizable
Invisible

Few knew
How deeply
You had enveloped me
My mask held tight
My armor in place
I mirrored falsehood
That isolated me
Farther under
And further in
Deeper than I imagined

It ended
In agonizing abruptness
Or perhaps
The finality seemed quick
But the aftershocks
Continued well after

Seeing light
Actually finding it
Knowing it
Acknowledging it
Felt excrutiating
It burned
But unlike before
This light, this flame
This fire
Destroyed pretense

Silence
Fabrication
Had left me
Skin and bones
Ravaged by the truth
And barely holding on
Gasping for air

The moonlight
Too much for me
Unwilling to be
Unmasked
In the brazen heat
Of the noonday sun
Moon rays
Illuminated
The trail that
Littered my path
A kaleidoscope
Of pieces

I had surrendered
Who I was
To become
A ghost of myself

Two weeks
14 days
And I still feel
The aftershocks

I grapple with phantom shackles
My range of movement
Limited by former restraints
My wings are recovering
But I’m still lame
Perhaps this limp
Is my rememberence
My atonement
My freedom

#FMF – Include

Joining up with these cool people over at my fave place to link up. One word, five minutes, write and then visit others who have written too 🙂

#FMF – INCLUDE

Once
His fingers
Had performed
Majestic symphonies
Played
With his head flung back
And eyes closed
As the music
Coarsed thru him

With his eyes closed
In surrender
He failed to notice
That his glance
Was not as crisp
As it once was
The lines began
To waft and wane
The notes dancing
Off the page
Creating chaos
Rather than
What he knew
As rhapsody

With tears
Coarsing down his face
He reached out
Touching the page
Willing his fingers
To imprint
The melody
Traced with great care
Each digit
Resting upon
The according note

Moving his hand
From the page
Back to the keys
He willed his mind
To include
What his fingertips read
And translate it
Into the symphony
He once knew

Image: Unsplash – Isaac Ibbott

#FMF – Adapt

Joining up with fellow writers at Five Minute Friday to share our thoughts in five minutes on one topic. Its always great reading what others have written and how they have been inspired

#FMF – Adapt

There wasn’t alot
Of fabric left
The dress had seen
Better days
But it was something
She held fast to

Her grandma
Had sewn it
Piece by piece
From some yards of linen
Carefully preserved
In folds
For a special project
Her first daughter
To be born
Such a gift
Warrented
The cutting
The sewing
The forming
Of something lovely
From the fabric

And when
The daughter arrived
she filled its folds
With joy
And promise

One day
She grew to big
For the special dress
And it was again
Folded up
For someday

Her own mother
Who had once
Graced these folds
Had brought out
The fabric
so carefully hidden away
And had pressed
And readied it
For her own
Soon to arrive one

And now I stand
She stands
And holds the linen
In soft folds
In my hands
In her hands

And she knew
That any
Further adaptation
To the dress
Would remove
The memories
Embedded
In threads
Careful hand stitching
In breathes
Prayers breathed over
A little one asleep
In this dress

And while she waited
Her hand rubbing her belly
Wishing peace
On its inhabitant
She hung the dress
Its aged fabric well loved
In anticipation
Of her own daughter

Image: Unsplash – Caroline Hernandez edited in Canva

#FMF – Stuck

Joining up with my dear friends at Five Minute Friday where a one word prompt has us all searching our minds, hearts and fingertips for what moght be spilled out in the alloted five minutes.

FMF – Stuck

Once
She had been
A mighty ship
Full of goods
From one land
Traversing
Watery chaos
To deliver resources
To another place

Once
She had been
Full
Of mighty warriors
Intent on
Protecting
Theirs homes
Or making
New homes abroad

Once
She had stood
strong and bold
The envy of
Eyes that saw
Her beauty
Grace and ability

But now

Her remnants
Are encased
In immovable sand
The weight
Buries her
Mighty spine
Her ribs
Barely stay taught

There is
But a whisper
Of her former
Proud life
And
Prestigious pursuits
She is a remnant
Of what she once
Was

She is
Stuck.

Image – Unsplash – Trevor Cole edited in Canva

#FMF – Turn

FMF – Turn
They litter the lawn
Bright yellow heads
Point their faces
Heavenward

Sometimes
So many gather
A sea of gold
Greets my eye

And while
We often seek
To banish them
From lawn and garden

There are those
Who use them
In salads, tintures
Even as a herbal tea

And as the days pass
The heads begin
Their decay to seed pods
And they resemble clouds

With the slightest breeze
They turn to airborn parachutes
Lifting each seed from
Its tethered hold

The golden sheen
Has turned airborn
New life lifts
On cloudy whisps

– – – –

Joining up with Kate and friends as we write for FIVE minutes on ONE prompt and see what happens on the page.

Image: Unsplash – Dawid Zawila edited in Canva

#FMF – Other

Joining with my dear friends at Five Minute Friday as we write for 5 minutes on one common prompt and then see how others have had it speak to them.

Prompt: Other

The fence separates
I’ve never ventured
To the other side

I can see what lays
On its other side
But i can not know it

I try to make use
Of my other senses
To try to steal its essence
But though the fence has gaps
It is willing
To relinquish nothing

The posts are buried deep
The wires stretch taught
I dare not test my finger
A prick of blood
To know it exists

I wonder what
I am being kept from
What is this

Other

Image: Unsplash- Marivi Pazos edited in Canva