Letter to an Ex

I promised to love you until I died. The wish that was written on my heart was your name in bright bold letters. I believed they would never fade. Even after you told me that you would never return my love. I felt that my love was true and would stand the test of time.

You can guess my surprise when I woke up this morning and your name was gone. My heart is now a blank slate waiting for the next name to be written there. This next love may well be reciprocated and his name shall be carved where yours was merely written.

I’m sorry I wasted my time on you. No I can’t truthfully say that. Being with you taught me many things about myself and how I am in a relationship. These things I will share with the next guy while you fade from my memory.

Writer In Dreams

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Of Cats and Girls

There was a cat I used to feed when I was younger, a calico with a missing tail. She stayed in a cardboard box that was left in a drainage ditch not far from my school. When I first saw the cat she darted away. It took months of coaxing and treats just for her to let me pet her. Before school ended we became good friends and now Mia slept on my bed. The girl standing before me reminds me a lot of Mia. She walks away after saying hi and doesn’t quite meet my gaze. I wonder if the same techniques that worked with Mia will work with her.

Writer In Dreams

Falling In Love

I wonder if you can see me? I stand here only two feet away. We make a shared joke about my room mate without quite meeting each others gaze. Is it she that you are looking at? To her you are an older brother. What do you see her as? Is she important to you? If so then I’ll be happy for her. She deserves someone as good as you. But I can’t be happy for you. I want to, deep down I will always wish for you to be happy. I just will have to get used to the idea that it won’t be me that makes you happy. If you do see me. Then I won’t let you go quietly. If you can’t, if you won’t see me. I’ll let you go and pray for your happiness. Even if it costs me my own.

Writer In Dreams

Merry Christmas

I remember a time when my Mom would make my brothers and me help her put up the tree. I would complain and say that I wanted to finish reading a chapter before bed. Secretly I loved every moment of it. My Dad would make split pea soup that looked disgusting but tasted delucious. My brothers and would soon start fighting over who got to put the ornaments on the tree. Ornaments we made in school were usually up front, proudly displayed among the prettier baubles.

This year there is no tree and the ornaments are gone. Both of my parents share a resting place in Fort Bliss cemetery. Even though my brothers and I live in the same town I’d feel lucky if we got to go to the movies Christmas day. Christmas isn’t what it used to be. I mourn for my Christmases past

Writer In Dreams

Shattered Glass

“They hate it when you tap on the glass.” The thought resonates through me as I sit in my psych doctor’s office.
She types a bit on the computer, probably pulling up my file. “You’ve been here a week now. Up until today you’ve been the model patient.” She looks over at me entwining her fingers as if creating a net for my secrets. “Do you want to explaine what happened?”
The fragile barrier around my darkness shatter.

Writer In Dreams

PTSD

There was a crack followed by a flash that sent me over the bunker. I waited panting hard for the sound of boots on the ground. There was something wrong with the wall at my back. It yielded to my weight more than sand bags ought to. And there was that smell. Instead of desert sand I smelled lilacs. Only one person I knew smelled like lilacs, Lorain. I reached up and felt Lorain’s warm hand grasp my own. Closing my eyes I could feel her stroking my head calmly talking to me. Lorain is calm, why is Lorain calm?
I open my eyes to see our bedroom. Lorain is looking down at me from the bed smiling warmly. “Welcome back Brice.” A lamp lay on its side the bulb shattered.

Writer In Dreams