Feeds:
Posts
Comments

Posts Tagged ‘heartbreak’

windshield note

The Perfect Day

The rain had fallen hard last night, but not today. Today was perfect. Sylvia grinned up at the cloudless, sunny sky, drew in a deep breath that smelled of wet grass and spring, and then dropped her keys. She giggled when she looked down and realised that she had neither dropped the keys on her foot nor in the mud puddle she had almost stepped in but managed to avoid completely. Of course she avoided it. Mud had no right to intrude on her perfect day. She felt almost giddy as she picked up her keys, fingers grazing against the cool, damp gravel. As she straightened, she rubbed her hand on the back of her jeans to brush the crumbs of dirt off her fingers. Then she remembered that she still hadn’t locked the front door.

“Oh, f-f-f-fiddlesticks.” Ever since the stick turned blue, she was determined to stop swearing. She’d only peed on the stick this morning after Andrew left for work. Immediately after the door closed, Sylvia had grabbed the test hiding in her handbag and rushed into their shared bathroom. Two minutes had never taken so long, and she’d surprised herself by actually whooping out loud when she saw the positive result. Followed by a jubilant “Hot damn!”, which was, rather predictably, followed by an earnest promise to the powers that be to give up swearing before the baby came.

She locked the door and turned to go to her car. She saw a piece of paper under the windscreen wiper, and both her heart and her steps quickened. Her footsteps squelched on the damp gravel, and the faintest breeze lifted her hair and brought tiny goosebumps to her arms. She knew what it was. Andrew did this every year, leaving her a little love note for her to find on their anniversary. She adored these little surprises, but she knew they couldn’t top the surprise she’d be giving Andrew tonight at dinner. As her hand reached out to take the note, a police car pulled in the drive behind her car.

Sylvia couldn’t understand what the cops would be doing here. But it didn’t matter. It couldn’t. Nothing was going to ruin this perfect day.

The car came to a stop. She noticed the crunching noise the tyres made. She saw a uniformed officer exit each side of the vehicle, and everything, including time, stopped.

“Mrs Taylor?” She heard them tell her about the car accident, about the ambulance arriving on the scene, about Andrew dying before reaching A&E. She heard it all, but she’d stopped noticing anything. Nothing made sense anymore. Nothing but the blue stick in her bathroom and the paper she clutched in her hand.

My Dearest Syl—
Happy anniversary, darling. I think this is going to be our best year yet. I’ll see you tonight.
All my love, A.

Read Full Post »

So, after some encouragement from friends and support from my 6-year-old—who is also a writer—I’ve decided to continue the story that I found a bit ago. The writing is going slowly, but steadily. I’m curious to see where this goes. Perhaps the title will even come to me soon.

story graphicEmma rolled over to turn off her alarm. She’d set it earlier than necessary because she knew she’d be getting off to a slow start today, making ample use of the snooze alarm. But now it was time to start the day—and this new chapter in her life—in earnest.

She went through the motions of preparing for her first day back at work. A part of her missed her co-workers and was looking forward to having a little human interaction again. But she wasn’t looking forward to the looks of pity and the awkward condolences that she knew were coming. Just the thought of hearing “I’m so sorry…” or “If there’s anything I can do…” over and over was almost enough to make her stop brushing her hair and crawl back into bed. But she didn’t. “Emma,” she told her reflection, “it’s time you rejoined the land of the living.”

She moved to turn off the light as she left the bathroom, but stopped—hand reaching toward the light switch—and turned back to the mirror. “Even if you do wish you were with Oliver instead of here.”

Read Full Post »

…written immediately following a break-up. I found it on the back of an old bill I was going to throw away.

my love
I cannot stay
and so I give you
half the sky
I will keep the thunder
and rain clouds and hail
you keep the rainbows
and sunshine
I am not strong enough to
save us both
and I have learned I can
be my own sunshine

Read Full Post »

Strength

human thigh bones are
stronger than concrete
if only that was true
for the heart
no calcium strengthens
this soulful muscle

if I were to drop your
heart onto the sidewalk from
our bedroom window
(and I must confess I’ve imagined
doing this more than once)
if I dropped your heart, would
it survive the fall?
or would the concrete accept my
sacrifice and devour your
heart, drinking in the blood and
whatever life still flowed
within the chambers after
being removed, delicately —
or maybe not quite so
gently — from your vicious,
viscous chest?

blood and fluids seep into
the concrete through cracks
and fissures, and there are some
red splatters on the grass
at least, I think there are
it’s hard to be sure from
three stories up

Read Full Post »

Moonbeams

saudade — longing, melancholy, nostalgia
the love of something or someone that is missing or lost

How is it possible for me
to be homesick for a home
I’ve never had? Sometimes,
when the moon keeps me
company, I remember you.
Perhaps it is the sterile silver
light, casting shadows on
everything but my heart.
Night is when I miss you
most, not because you are
gone, but because I never
knew you, or your heart,
as cold and sterile and
unresponsive to my touch
as moonbeams.

Read Full Post »

Love and Irony, digital photograph, 2011

Read Full Post »

Détente

England sits poised to
take a new queen
alliances must be made
though Alsace is withdrawn
even the Middleman knows
she is just a pawn
sacrificed for Future success

question asked
too scared to say yes
too tired to say no
defeat is an answer

Read Full Post »

Older Posts »