What if

You let me in

Let me rush right through the door

Into your world of shadows

Would my divine light shine too bright

Would it hurt your twilight eyes

What if

Your heart softens

The honey from my kiss

Pours straight down your throat

Coating your bitterness in a sweet liquid

Would it be too much

Would you choke

What if

You gripped my heart and shook my

Monotone world to the core

Giving me the adventure I crave

And the peace you are desperate for

Your eyes reflecting the stars in mine

What if

You realized

That I asked for this

That I have been standing

Devotedly outside your door for a lifetime

Knuckles bleeding crimson from the bleeding

What if

You gave in

You stopped punishing yourself

Your warrior heart lit aflame

You knocked the door to the ground

And took me in your arms

What if

You accepted this love

I sit at window sill

tears rolling down cheek

hands supporting face

robbed by the little child

I once was

and will never be

AGAIN.

I removed her glasses and gazed

at the cerulean beauty of her eyes.

There was so much promise and

sensuality there, that I dove

right into their welcoming depths.

I never again surfaced from

the filmy surface of her orbs,

washed by the overwhelming

peace and tranquility

beneath her ocean.

The definition of death is "the termination of all biological functions that sustain a living organism". But many people died long ago while still breathing and continued going through the motions until finally their bodies gave out. I think that most people die long before the last breath leaves their body. I will die when I decide the world is too much and lock myself away from it in hopes to keep myself safe. The moment I decide living is too dangerous is the day that I truly die. The day I can no longer enjoy myself for fear of death is the day it will overtake me. 

So it seems that you do keep wanting them, so we’ll keep posting them.

This week we speak to a Proser we really feel that you should be reading and talking to as his work is AWESOME. He’s also very nice and was thankful to be asked to answer our questions. The person under the spotlight this week is Nick Reyes who you can find on Prose under the username: @xNRx

He describes himself in three words as: “Humble. Quiet. Loyal.”

Nick lives in a small town that goes by the name of Paso Robles, which is on the central coast of California. He explains that they are about 3 1/2 hours of San Francisco and 3 1/2 hours north of Los Angeles. “It's a beautiful area and we are known for our wine...so I'm told...but I drink beer.“

Prose jumps straight in and asks what it is that Nick does: “I am actually a Personal Trainer. I've been a personal trainer for close to two years. Before that I spent 8 years in the military and got out in 2013.”

As we do with everyone, we ask Nick what his relationship is with writing. He explains: “My relationship with writing is a very intimate one. I am not one to offer up my emotions and discuss them. I consider myself to be an introvert in every way, and I've been like this for as long as I could remember. I want to say I started writing when I was in high school, which was actually 10 years ago. Lol, I never believed I was any good, but I enjoyed being able to express myself without having to openly discuss with another person. Everything I write is influenced and reflects something in my life that has happened or an emotion I'm feeling at the time. A lot of my writing tends to take a darker tone, especially in my most recent work. And to be quite honest, everything I have written would still be sitting in some notebook somewhere...buried in a stack of books, or a box, or in a drawer...if it wasn't for PROSE! I haven't looked back since.”

We dig deeper and probe him about what value reading adds to his life: “Oh man...that's an excellent question. I don't read as much as I would like BECAUSE life tends to get in the way of all that. I'll admit though that I have grown to appreciate reading so much more now. There's something about reading a piece of poetry or literature and you feel that the author was writing about your life. Not to mention, it makes you have to slow down and live in the moment.”

Prose asks how his work has reflected his life of late and what should we expect coming up. He fills us in: “So far a lot of my work has reflected my life the last 3 years. I've experienced a lot of loss in those 3 years. I went through a divorce...I lost a child...lost a few friends and family members...Fell out of love...fell in love...I've been through EVERYTHING in these past 3 years. As for what you can expect? Time will tell...but I'm excited to be able to share it with everyone on Prose.”

Wow. That sounds like some tough times have been endured. We hope it’s all now on the up for Nick. What has he and does he love about Prose? He waxes lyrically: “Everything. So far I love everything about Prose. And I'm really not saying that, just to say it. Everyone on Prose is absolutely amazing. It's not like Facebook or other social media platforms where, in my opinion, you find a lot of superficial and meaningless things. Everything on Prose is genuine. It's awesome.”

We like to know if Prosers have a certain book they’d like us all to read before we get put in the ground or go up in smoke: “I don't have anything in particular I'd say you must read. Read everything. Everything and anything that interests you. That'd be my suggestion. I know that is a pretty generic answer.”

And on his unsung heroes, if any: “As of late I have really enjoyed reading pieces by Beau Taplin. As I said before, I have read so many of his pieces and thought, "Holy shit this guy has been following me."”

We ask what quote sums him up. He has one. This one: "Everything you've ever wanted is on the other side of fear. I live by this.” Prose loves that one too, Nick.

We probe him as to whether he plumps for any music in particular when reading or writing. “My mood determines the music I listen to when I write. And I listen to everything! After the Burial, Thrice, Brand New, Angus & Julia Stone, Keaton Henson, Ben Howard, The XX....those are just a few.”

When the Prose Time Machine lands in the grim future without books, Nick opts out: “I'd probably be too shy say anything.”

Upon being asked if he has any Indie Bookstores local to him that he’d like to champion, he replies: “Unfortunately we don't. We do have a sweet coffee shop named Spearhead Coffee, that totally has that Prose vibe to it.”

Sounds like a cool place to grab a cup of Joe. We ask him if there are any other things he’d like to share with fellow Prosers about himself or any social media accounts: “You can find me on Instagram if you're interested enough. Just look for: xnickreyesx”

Thanks to Nick for his great answers and candour. Please find him and follow him. He’s another good one that makes Prose what it is. Check him out as @xNRx

If you are an active Proser who wants to get in on the action, or know someone you'd like to see in a future Friday Feature, let us know at info@theprose.com

One, two, three--

I wish you were with me.

Four, five, six--

We could be magic.

Seven, eight, nine--

You are my story line.

Ten--

I'm broken.

She couldn't quite comprehend it. How could someone like him be so enamored with her? She felt like she was such a mess. He was so normal, so collected. And he wanted to be with her. This love equation didn't add up right in her eyes. She kept coming up short. This very situation is what kept her from happiness for a long time.

The comforting sound of a familiar song plays on the radio. Not familiar in the sense that I've heard it before, familiar in the sense that I've lived the words. They strike me so deeply. Sometimes joyful, sometimes sorrowful. Every time, the words make me feel as if the one who wrote them is a private eye or secret admirer, paying attention to my every thought, emotion, and move. Each word revealing a new truth that lay deep within my mind, flowing with ease as if I somehow was speaking through the artist. In these times, these rare occasions, I feel so connected. Knowing that someone out there has experienced my joy, my pain, and has created a mixture of words serving up as a powerful elixir that sedates me in a way so sublime. The intoxicating sound of a soul who can hold a conversation with me, never knowing my story, not even my name, produces a powerful perception that I belong. 

The pile of leaves sat there for so long, unmoved by the winds.

Then, one day, a breeze came in from a new direction.

The leaves rustled about before becoming swept up in the air and scattered about.

Many cold, mighty winds had tried to separate the pile time and again, but it wasn't forcefulness that was needed.

It was simply a change of direction.