Forgotten Love

Could you give my heart,

Back?

Everytime i am around

you i feel its presents.

I miss it,

So i try to be

around you often.

but since thats

not working out.

I want it back.

My Life (Fight)

FIGHT if you ever want to achieve,

FIGHT for those who can't,

or for those who wont,

FIGHT if you ever have witnessed a crime.

FIGHT.

FIGHT if you have been funny or liked,

at someone else' expense.

FIGHT if you dont want to fight over "there",

FIGHT for the weak,

and the illprepared,

FIGHT.

FIGHT if you've ever been broken hearted,

slammed down on the ground,

and you darted.

FIGHT.

FIGHT for the cowards,

for the lovers, unloved,

FIGHT if you've ever told

a young one,

everything will be okay,

FIGHT if it wasn't.

FIGHT.

i rEmEMbeR...

i remember the warm

brick

ground in my backyard,

the summer mornings when the

sun would heat them, and

i would go out and soak in the

sun.

i remember yellow walls.

i remember jeremy my first

boyfriend.

i remember mud fights in

a stream with jocelyn,

the mud

dried and we washed off.

i remember the tingly

feeling i felt every-

time _____ held my hand.

i remember when _ _ _ _ _

held my hand i

felt

nothing.

i remember being dissapointed.

Journal Entry

The Woman in Black (prompt #13)

"COME BACK!"

She screamed to the waters, over and over again. Wiping a tear from her cheek, "COME BACK!" The black dress represents the death and mourning. The death and mourning of a dear friend. She thought to herself how she could quite possibly lose everything she had. Her job, her Other friends, the respect of her family and everyone around her, and possibly her freedom. her failed attempt to calm herself down by inhaling and exhaling, turned into hyperventilation. After all she has been through in the recent months, the loss of her friend would be the one to send her over the edge.
"COME BACK!"
"IT'S not going to come back Melanie, you know that. IT'S gone forever." a subtle yet condescending Voice sounded.
The look on her face changed from surprise to confused. What was The Voice talking about? What is IT? Surely The Voice is not referring to my dear friend. She searched for where the voice originated, but found nothing, but herself spinning around in circles finding hopeless nothings.
"IT?" she questioned aloud.
"There is no friend, Melanie, you KNOW what IT is. Do not be naive."
The Voice slowly faded out, and resided in her as a feeling of bewilderment. She knew what the voice meant, she did not want to except it, but the mere fact that she even heard the voice proved it true. No... Had she really lost her mind instead of a dear friend? Could she be wearing this black dress to mourn the loss of her sanity? Damn.
"COME BACK SANITY!"

Farrah

Matthew: I'm kind of... new at this.

Farrah: I can tell.

Matthew: You can?

-silence-

Farrah: Well usually the meeting place isn't a public coffee shop. You wont make eye contact, and you are sweating profusely.

Matthew: Oh.

Farrah: Matth...

(cut off)Matthew: It's Matt, you can call me Matt.

Farrah: Ok, Matt, What are you so scared of? It's just one night, not even the entire night, because i am not sure if you could afford that.

Matthew: Yes, but i could lose everything, i have a wife and kids at home.

Farrah: That is not my business, i just do what i am paid for. (taking off her jacket and placing it in her lap)

Matthew: Yeah...

Farrah: I don't know you, or your situation. But, you are being charged already for my time, s(cut off)Matthew: I know, I know. My car is parked right outside.

(Farrah stands up, bends over and gets close to Matthews face and whispers)

Farrah: Let's go then...

The Musky Room

The walls of this small room had seen many faces, coming, and going in a sense. Never by their choice. HE just wanted HER to be happy. HE could not have any sympathy or mercy for those that hurt HER. HE knew that SHE would never do anything about it herself. So to show how much HE cared for HER, HE started bringing this list of "offenders" to this room. Dark, musky, and the smell of rust, possibly urine, and something rotting. The dirt colored wallpaper that aged and peeled down the walls in some places, gave the room an eerie personality. A steel cold chair sits in the middle of the room waiting patiently for the next victim. One light hanging tenuously from the ceiling. No windows in the room, a camera in the top corner of one of the walls silently peeking at the occurrences. The door help multiple sets of locks and bolts. HE would ask them a few questions, usually why they did what they did to HER, but it would always end the same, a slow and painful withdrawal from this world.

Curious Eyes, Painful Questions

The little girl stared into her Mothers eyes. Innocently curious, and yet still had the patience for her mother to attempt to gather the correct words.

"Mommy? Where is daddy?" she asked again, this time with a hint of worry.

A moment of silence took place as the mother tried her best to find the best way to explain it. Nothing came to mind, either too sad, or avoiding the question completely.

"Honey, Daddy" She began tenderly, " Daddy can't be with us anymore." Without the young girl having to say another word, she knew that answer wouldn't suffice. How do you tell a little girl the age of 7 that her daddy had died in a terrorist attack a few days prior. They never found any trace of him, the last they had seen of him was the silhouette as he waved out his car window to them in the early morning, before going to work.

"Is it because of the accident at daddy's work?"

"Yes," sighing the mother tried to explain again, " he was in the building when the airplane hit it, and so God took him up to live with him. He Loved," she thought for a moment, "LOVES you very much. He didn't want to leave you."