Tell me it’s okay. Tell me I’m going to wake up tomorrow and the sun will shine through the shutter blinds like it always used to, making patterns on the floorboards and turning the dust in the air into little golden specks, and that while my eyes are still half closed I’ll smell the fragrance of coffee and something frying in the kitchen. Tell me that tonight I’ll hold my baby in my arms, feel her soft little body against mine, her fingers running gently through my hair as she drifts off to sleep, safe and warm. Tell me that when I lie in bed, in that comfortable state between consciousness and dreams, I will hear only your soft breathing, the creak of the bed as you turn, the gentle sighs of sleep. Tell me that when I walk out the door I will see a beautiful world, a world that isn’t crushed and broken; that I will feel whole and my heart will pulse with hope and I’ll know that I’m living and not simply surviving painfully with each new day. Tell me that I can still cry with joy as well as sorrow. I’ll believe you, for just a moment. While you hold me and I bury my face on your shoulder, I’ll believe that nothing ever changed and we still have a family, a home, a life. I can’t tell it to myself anymore. I need to feel it in the squeeze of your hand on my arm and know it from the reassurance in your soft voice. I need to hear it from your lips.
Please ... just tell me it’s okay.
(In case you didn’t read the first comment I posted, this is just a fictional piece I wrote for fun. I imagine it to be something like the prologue to a dystopian novel. It doesn’t reflect my own thoughts, but the thoughts of a character whose life has been crushed. Perhaps her husband has died and she’s trying to tell herself he’s not gone. That’s my opinion, anyway :)
The Road I Never Took.
Life is a phenomenon
which cannot be explained,
full of mysteries,opportunities and misfortunes,
which all arise when we don’t expect them,
for every road you’ll take, you will miss the one you didn’t.
yet in the end,
not losing hope and keep going is what we all should be doing.
©Alipoetry, All Rights Reserved.
#poetry #life #quotes #motivation #Inspiration #Learning.
The Dangerous Smile
Nothing Scares An Enemy More.
Than A Person Who Keeps Smiling And Trying.
Despite His Enemies Best Efforts.
To Try And Stop Him From Succeeding.
©Alipoetry, All Rights Reserved.
#poetry #Life #quotes #fiction #motivational #inspirational
if you like to see the video of this poem, visit my youtube channel. shorturl.at/tR369
Me: “Any response from Brain yet?”
I gasped, “It has been long enough since we discontinued BrainTalks. We need a new chapter.”
Mind: “I know.”
Me: “Why is he like this now? Before we started BrainTalks, he used to humiliate me for every word I said. Now, he is not even talking. Not even a word.”
Mind: “Maybe, he does not want you to write this.”
Me: “But why? Every time I try to do something good, he stops functioning, right there.”
Mind: “It’s alright, Cap. We will find a plan.”
Me: “Thanks, mate, you are being so supportive.”
Mind: “I have to. It’s my duty.”
I smiled. “But, Brain, what is wrong with you? Whatever it is, we can find a solution.”
He did not respond.
“Brain, I am talking to you. Have you fallen asleep?”
Brain: “Have I not been asleep since your birth?”
Mind: “That is not a bad one for a comeback.”
Thousand and two.
Is It still Love?
Is it love, if I already let go?
Such a pitiful sight to see, this isn't love.
Why would you come here to see me?
Is it for my money and riches? Perhaps my silver rings, and plated gold?
Carrot gold earrings, dazzling brighter than the moonlight. Is it love, if you let go a long time ago? The twinkling stars remind me of your beautiful eyes, the same ones I used to cast you out of my house. How cruel fate can be, mother. Perhaps in your next life, you won't leave me for some flea bug man. I'm sure you'll leave and repeat the same horrid cycle again and again. An endless nightmare. Let me cradle you until you rest, never forget you still are my blood. My home is not your home but my kindness and warm gentle hands shall soothe your grieving pain. Rest easy mother, for I Am still at your side. The twinkling stars quiet down, leaving nothing but stardust and fractured moonlight. Dear mother, wait for me in the next life… I will try to love you again, I promise.
A letter from my mother before she passed:
you have always had that shine in your eyes, the same ones since I first laid eyes on you. Please live on and forget me, I only wished to rid of my life so I wouldn't be a burden to you. And now look at me, I walked up to your doorstep expecting a warm welcome, what was I thinking after all the years of pain and endless suffering I left you with. You did the right thing, I had to go. My sweet lovely angel, you came back to see me when I was dying on my hospital bed. The tears I had that night and yours too, they broke me. I resent my life, please live on and forget me.
I wish I could have held you for just one more time. Why did things have to be like this? I was so young and naive, “WHY OH GOD WHY?!!!!!!!!” I'M SUCH A HORRIBLE MOTHER!! TAKE ME NOW AND RID OF ME!!!!! My precious child... you truly are a gift from God. I'm sorry, I never could tell you about your special eyes and your black wavy hair. Tell me when you get to the next life, I want to hold you just one more time. I'll be waiting...
Sincerely, The Lady In Black.
Dance Into Silence
Boom, tap, boom, tap, there goes human life, a streak of red blood-colored the skies overhead. Madness descended onto the looming despair of the weak. Shreds of children's clothing and small shoes compiled higher than the mountain's gaze could reach. The tempo was lost and the ravaging souls of the dead consumed the living, leaving nothing but beautiful silence.
It Spoke To Me
He lay there,
P E T R I F I E D but very much A L I V E
The moths covering his jaw, were O O Z I N G with S E N S A T I O N
He moved and danced along with the maggots that burrowed through his skin.
T A R T E R D paper skin and H O L L O W bones, dug out by the ants within...
His eyes swallowed in, and left behind... he spoke but with the larvae hanging from the roof of his mouth.
R U S T and chambers full of D E C A Y, from limb to limb.
However, I must ask;
“Are you still alive?”
it's all just "it can't be that bad" and "it's only once a month" until she accidentally overdoses on painkillers because it just never stops
Day in her life.
You walk off to the bathroom in a half sleep daze and expect to shoot straight into the bowl. But there is nothing to hold and you are forced to sit to do your business. It’s odd but doable and you think nothing of it. You believe your facial hair to itch and you run a hand over your face to find absolute smoothness.
You start to wake up!
You open your eyes to find two new friends hanging off your chest. Now you are wide awake. And sleepy or not, you should have known something was off. It doesn't stop you from touching the strange apparitions on your chest. They've always amused you anyway. Why deny yourself the pleasure when they are in close range. Not large and a bit of you deflates. Size matters. You know this so well as a boy. Does it matter to girls?
You sit on the toilet wondering how long this will last. Is this a bad dream or not? Worst of all, is this permanent or not? You settle for a bad dream and temporary and go back to bed. Any minute you will wake up and all will be right with the world again. An hour later and you realise this is not a passing fever.
You call in sick at work. You need all the time in the world to figure this out. You can't remember if there was ever a moment in your life when you wanted to be a girl and now you are lost at what you should do with this predicament you find yourself in. What was the first thing you wanted to do as a girl? How do girls fill their days? It's a redundant question you know. They probably do the same things guys do. You figure that this day is going to be filled with questions of what is appropriate or not for a girl.
None of your clothes fit the small frame you appear in. You have no bra. Obviously. But you've noticed the new trend where girls are hardly married to them anymore. Your underwear feels weird. Really weird. Every movement reminds you of your missing member. And that is truly what you feel like - dismembered. You shudder to think of the permanence of all of this.
You slip in and out of the jeans easily and settle for your shorts whose waist fitting you can adjust. And throw on one of those slim-fitting shirts that appear large on this tiny frame. Look at the bright side of things. This could be fun. You try to convince yourself. You make a plan.
But first, breakfast. You think of whipping up something like your mother used to - a pie or those butter cookies you loved. You go through the motions and find that cooking is not inborn or particular to girls. Or maybe that's because you retained your 'male brain'. Shouldn't muscle memory be stronger? Or this body you got had never done any cooking. For the first time, you consider if there is anyone out there who woke up in your body. Were they handling their transition better?
You go visit your father. When he opens the door, he sputters. You know why. You've always looked mostly like him and whatever voodoo they performed on you didn't change that fact. You think of explaining that it's you but there are few times in your life that you've seen your father off his tracks and you relish this moment. And besides you've always wondered how he'd behave around a girl, a daughter.
In his shock, he lets you in and asks you to explain. You don't think there is much to say and you make up a story hoping he'll fill in the gaps. He shakes his head fiercely and insists that he has only ever had sexual relations with your mother. You are a blur of emotions on how to take that information. Especially considering that at just 28, your 'body count' is quickly catching up with your age. And they have been at least two girls who claimed you had gotten them pregnant. But your father doesn't budge from his claim. You tell him that it might have been a result of a drunken night. He seems doubtful. You start to wonder about the life your father has led but still insist. You look like him! To push him into a corner you suggest a DNA test and he gives up. He asks why you are here and you give those scripted answers 'to know you, know my origin'. In your head, you can't wait to laugh about this away from him.
He cries over this and you feel guilty. He is so open around his 'daughter'. You can't recall if you ever saw your father cry. Even when your mum died. You know he mourned her. He still does but he was never vulnerable around you. He just patted you on the back the day you buried her and asked you to be strong. He writes you a cheque of an amount you didn't think 'poor father' had. You've always asked him for money and all he ever tells you is to man up. You are shocked by the amount, truly shocked. And you wait for him to explain that he was leaving this for his son but he says nothing. You feel robbed somehow. Of course, you've still ended up with the money but he doesn't know that it's you.
On your way out, he hugs you. You haven't done that in a decade and it feels good. You don't know if he is this expressive because he lost his wife or because you are a girl. And you refuse to ponder it further for fear of what you might find. He says he wants to get to know you and you feel yourself on the brink of tears. You want that too. Deeply. Before he goes. He asks for a meeting a week. At your favourite place. You tell him 'The Garage'. It's where you work but he shows no recognition. You can't wait for the shock on his face when it's you; male and estranged, that shows up.
Your meeting with dear old dad eats up most of your time but it paid off. You have enough money to pay off your debts and then some. You feel rich and it's a good feeling. You surmise that it is a good feeling in any gender. The boys are at your usual hang out. For a moment, you forget your new body and rush up to them. They stare at you all weird with something that looks like recognition laced with suspicion. You tell them you are your sister and you talk about them so often it feels like meeting long-lost friends. They buy it and conversation flows. They send drinks round the table and once or twice they find excuse to bump into your chest. They do it so casually it takes you forever to notice that it is inappropriate.
A girl walks in and you all turn to look. She ignores the stares and cat-whistles. You wonder if her breasts are comfortable in that bra and try to tell if hers are bigger. But you think she's got great legs and say that out loud. She raises an eyebrow and stares at you till you are uncomfortable. The guys on your table are choking with quiet laughter. She says thanks and shrugs it off. Almost. She chances glances at you a number of times but you've moved on to more thinking. Don't women comment on those things? They always seem so open with each other. Did you say it wrong? Do women have a code to go by on how to compliment each other? You give up. Women are just as unfathomable from a female's meagre perspective as a male's.
The boys smooth it over and the moment is passed.
You also want a date and pull up your dating app. You look a mess, you know it. But you've thought about it, on and off throughout the day - how different sex must be from a woman's perspective. You think of going through with it but does pregnancy mean staying in this body for 9 more months, tied to the purpose of ensuring the continuity of the species? You decide to go out with a girl, at least that's not so far out of your depth.
You find your date dressed to impress and you feel a little terrible. The app showed your very male profile. You give her the well-used sister excuse. That you were caught up but didn't want to stand her up and sent your sister instead. This could be fun. You'll still pay the bill though. She relaxes visibly and says you'll go dutch. 'Us girls have got to stick together you know' she adds. Your day experience hasn't given enough insight into the depth of that statement. But you've noticed the looks that have followed you throughout the day from the men. And because you know most of the thoughts that accompany those looks, you've felt uneasy. You've also noticed the looks from the women, so open and trusting. They've encouraged you to coo at their babies, one even asked you to hold one as she searched for something. You've always loved babies so it's not an aftereffect of oestrogen but here it's not laced with suspicion of how you could be a killer or worse, a pedophile. It's uncanny how occurence of just one chromosome changes your course in so many ways.
You sit through the date and its great. Disarmed of your need to impress, you both bring your imperfect selves forward. You really listen to her now that your mind is not high on the aftermath of the date. And she is not stiff like you usually find them, as though constantly auditioning for something. She likes the food here and says so, admits she can't cook. You say same but are now thinking of cooking classes. She loves the idea and wants to tag along but there is a high chance you'll be back to your true self and say maybe she should go with your brother. She asks you if your brother is nice. You think of talking yourself up to her but the trust in her eyes leads you to give the truth. If she is looking for long term commitment, you don't think he is there yet but if she is looking for a good time, a wild body shaking then he's the guy. She laughs at your term but thanks you for your honesty. Away from the sexual tension, the two of you have really gotten along. You decide she makes a good friend, maybe more. But slow steps. Slow steps. You think of making a 'Find Friends App' fashioned after your experience.
You are not a man of prayer but you find yourself bargaining with the gods to return your weird old self just before you turn in. It's not been bad. It has actually not been bad, aside from a few mishaps. But a day is not enough to appreciate all the facets of a female existence.
the sacrifice of life is infinitely less meaningful when it was a bitter, painful existence anyway
i want to live in a world
where i can be happy once more
a world filled with freedom and joy
i want to live in a world
where the gods can't reach me
a world that isn't ruled
by immortal, all-knowing dictators
who require sacrifices
i want to live in a world
where i didn't tell her to run
a world where i didn't
fill her mind with hope of escape
only for her to be struck down
before she even got the chance
i want to live in a world
where she is still alive
a world where i can be with her
and not constantly live in fear
that she will one day
be taken from me
i am nothing but a bitter slave
on this world
and as much as i dream
of far off worlds
where i can be free
where she can be free
where we can be together,
i am trapped here
for the rest of my existence
and long after
when they bury me
into this world
that i will never escape
no matter how hard i want