100 on Tristan

Oh, the things I am going to do to you. Your death will seem quaint, bordering some line of eloquence and elegance. Okay, so it wasn’t death, but my how you inspire when glimpsed from the bottom of your infinity pool. I cannot tell a lie. You brought me to some strange place with an idea and a face. Emerging from an imaginary queue, as if an actor on audition, though, I’m not sure who is auditioning for whom. With a sparkle in your eye, curled lip exposes fang. Why Tristan, is than an invitation to bite or be bit?

100 on Pain

It slides, slipping degree by degree down that slippery slope. A dark diamond, exquisite, tear shaped, catching light along this fiery plight. The pain so ripe, showing me how blood blossoms in beads. Jagged edges, little nicks, cutting flesh, leaving scars upon the heart. Strange how fragile the pain, an elixir of tears in crystal drops. So much more weighty than joy. It wears me low. I crave only dark, a place to shut my eyes. I’m so tired. Vibrating through my nerves, the pain reminds me I am alive. Even here, caught in a landslide, I can still feel.

100 on Used Books

Like any book nerd, I’m constantly searching for good books. My favorite place of perusal are used bookstores. The real kind with paperbacks shoved in piles against walls and stuffed on copious shelves that one gets lost between. The slight musty hint of paper/glue lingering in the air. Back in the day, there were no benches, comfy couches, or coffee. Only nooks to lean in and floors to sit on. Books there had dog eared pages, well-worn covers and bent spines attesting to other people’s empty love affairs. I rescued as many as I could before Kindle.   **Thank you Bookworm Continue Reading →

100 on Old Clothes

Old socks, comfortably worn with threadbare jeans. The favorite shirt, stained and faded, hiding the bra that refuses to die with the poked out underwire. Too soft, too well worn, like part of my skin sown inside out with red thread. Stretched out elastic, tiny holes, unraveling strings, popped buttons, weaved cotton, rayon, polyester blend, frayed and abraded from contact sports and sliding seats. The snagged silk, dry-clean only. The hand wash fiasco, dry flat sweater, shrinking and warping with each go round in washer and dryer. All, beloved items yet the closet is full, it needs to be purged.

100 on Cold

It runs in your veins creating ice trails through that splintered heart. I didn’t see the crystal shards embedded in your blue blooded, pale hand or the deep-freeze under ninety degrees that never thaws. It lingers in your voice, the cold, detached goodbye, the frosted turned cheek, and the dismissal with your eyes. How I wish we never got involved. I’m tired of the hardened heart, the chill of this empty bed, the heat misplaced and displaced. How simple things roll off your banks and careen down mountainsides laden with snow. Caught in the avalanche and buried in your cold.

100 on Writing

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It comes in waves, the good, bad and ugly. It sits in my soul, scratching to get to a page. It is my nemesis, my beloved, my best friend. Word upon word, building, crashing, digging deeper into the shadows where others live. Schizophrenia? Maybe. Lurking below the surface of a rational mind is a Dr. Suess inspired ride. Voices of pasts, of futures yet to live. Waiting. Waiting to dance across the stage, speak whatever words fall from frozen mouths to ink dipped quills that tap, tappity tap, tap, tap tap, in keyed up rhythms on letters fingers dance upon.

100 on Shock

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Shock for 100

100 Words to read by

There are words that save your life: stop, duck, run. Short words easily understood. Their action implied. We generally have no problem with these. It is the words ignored, whose sentiments are often times repeated in music listened to, movies watched and books read. They glare accusingly as if from universal billboard signs trying to get our attention. We cannot escape them as they pour from the mouths of friends, loved ones, teachers, and adversaries. Messages we choose to embrace or ignore. In them we may find a road map, inspiration or a reminder. These words can save your life.

100 on Vacuous

Her thoughts bled out in a vacuous descent. “He’s gone?” “Gone.” Erica waited for it to sink in. How long had her sister known him? Not that it mattered, she never thought before jumping and once again the proof was the empty expression on her face. “Nah.” Eve waved her hand before her as though the word held the power to wipe away the action. She had planned – past tensed – to make them dinner. A cozy retreat from the world, cuddled on the couch with a bottle of wine and some old romantic movie she knew by heart.

100 on Birthday Wishes

I’d wish for you a sea of blue, the color remembered in your dreams. I’d wish for you a shore of endless sand – your home land. I’d wish your sorrows away if they didn’t make you who you are. I’d wish you the joy of childhood hours, when making bubbles and splashing puddles was the highest and best use of time. I’d wish for you the memories of the stars if they spoke truths to your heart. I’d wish peace & love to follow all your days. I’d wish today and every day you know how wonderful you really Continue Reading →