I have often wondered what the world thought of me.

I wish, to step outside myself and see me the way it does.

To watch the way I walk down the street or run into the arms of my lover. With my stilted gait. Do I really do it all differently, than anyone else does?

I would love to see my hair the curly rats nest that it is, blowing in the breeze on a hot summer day. Would I then see what everyone else sees in its natural cascading waves?

My eyes with their alluring hazel hues. I wonder, do they really sparkle like emeralds at times?

If I saw myself idling in line at the grocery store in my pajama bottoms late at night, Would I cringe at such a sight? Or would I applaud such obvious bravery?

I wish I could watch myself writing. I imagine myself in the midst of a story. I would watch in awe, as my left-hand scrolls across the paper creating something that wasn’t there before. My face lit up with the glow of fantasy. I wonder how beautiful I would seem, following my dreams.

I wonder if I came upon myself crying, shattered and broken. Would I be able to resist running up to wrap my arms around myself to whisper “everything will be okay.”

If I watched myself long enough would I be able to discern the moments the past catches up with me just by looking into my eyes?

Would I be like the rest of the world? Judging a book by its cover. Or would I see the past pains that broke my heart, the past joys I share in my heart? The present and all that I have overcome.

Would I see me as I know me? Or would I succumb to the poisonous way the world views me?

I know this cannot happen. I cannot step outside myself and look at who and what I am from another perspective. I guess I will have to be satisfied in knowing who and what I am deep down inside Instead of the distorted image, they see every time, I look in the mirror.

<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/wonder/”>Wonder</a&gt;



This is a twisted love story. It’s my favorite kind of love story.
The kind of love story that enraptures you body and soul, the kind of love story that ensnares you in its wicked dreams and carries you away on a black cloud of sin and… the forbidden.

This is a twisted love story, the kind of love story that can only break your heart, that ties you up in knots, that shatters you like glass, the kind of love story that will one day break you into a thousand tiny pieces…if you’re lucky.

This is a twisted love story. The kind of love story that my mother warned me about when I fantasized about real love from a romance novel when I was a child. A true love story cannot be written it can only be…felt.

This is a twisted love story. The kind of love story that I keep coming back to over and over at nauseum, and without fail. It seems… I am a masochist.

This is a twisted love story. The kind of love story that promises redemption but gives no succor for your cause. The kind of love story everyone wants but no one gets. The kind of love story that will kill you dead while you sleep…if you let it.

This is a twisted love story, the kind of love story that is always waiting in the wings but never shows itself, a mere ghost of what the future could have held and you are left wondering…what might have been?

This is a twisted love story. The kind of love story that will tear you down, shove you into darkness, the kind of love story that will seep into your bones take root like a tree and berate you for not being…perfect.

This is a twisted love story. The kind of love story that will tear you limb from limb and not be satisfied until you are nothing more than blood and gore. Waiting for the sun to rise again.

This is a twisted love story. The kind of love story that will leave the taste of cotton candied rainbows in your mouth and the taste of passion upon your lips, only to have it yanked away in the last moments of…breath.

This is a twisted love story. A story that will make you quiver with delight, the kind of love story that will take you for granted in all the right ways. The kind of love story that will last an eternity, that will shake you to your core and make you a better person. The kind of love that will bring you to your knees and never lose it’s tentative hold.

This is a twisted love story. The kind of love story that will show you the stars when there are none, bathe you in the moons glow when it isn’t glowing, give you a warm fuzzy feeling even when it’s cold.

This is a twisted love story. The kind of love story that is so enamored with itself, you feel the effects long after the thrill is gone.
How do I know all of this, because this is my twisted love story.!


She was saintly in all that she did.  A wife, a mother, a daughter, a sister. Her roles were etched out for her even before she was born and she played them well.

Always the yes girl, she behaved exactly as she should. Never complaining that her load was too great to bare.

No one ever asking, if she was alright. They just assumed she was, with all her saintly ways.

However, she was full of fire inside. A hunger for a life only she could imagine. A thirst that could never be quenched.

She longed to sink her bare feet into the sand and watch the waves roll upon her. She craved a life she would never have.

She ached to ride wild horses, barebacked and bare-chested. She lusted after the moon and all his beautiful brightness.

She sought a world where she could be free of all her tedious masks. For in her soul she was anything but saintly.


<a href=”https://dailypost.wordpress.com/prompts/saintly/”>Saintly</a&gt;

Lone Survivor

I have become obsessed with the past. Last night. I was up until the wee hours of the morning just staring into the hazy memories. It got me wondering have you lost sleep over me too?

I cannot for the life of me remember what you smell like. Or the taste of your lips upon mine, but I do remember the way you made me feel. I went from being cradled in your arms safe and secure to insignificant and small.

You brought out a wildness in me I never knew. One moment we were carefree and discovering the mysteries of the world together and the next we were two strangers staring into the abyss of, nothingness.

For so long I hated you and all you represent. Your name was like acid dripping off my tongue and turned to ashes in my mouth.  Now there is just a dull ache over…what might of been.

If only you had been different if only I had been different. If only. I only now realize why I hated you so much. It wasn’t all the horrible things you did. It was that you somehow managed to set me free of my gilded cage and in turn, you tried to trap me in another.

While I raged for many years, in the end, your hold wasn’t strong enough to contain me. The day I let you go was the dawn of a new day. I may not have seen it right away but that was the day I was set free.

Set free of my earthbound shackles and I much like the caterpillar emerging as a beautiful butterfly. I took to the skies. I was able to soar above the wreckage that was you and me. A little singed but taking flight nonetheless.

I was beautiful in all my damaged glory. Wearing my scars like badges for all the world to see. Now as I look back on our strangled past. I smile as it gave me the strength to fly high, it gave me the wisdom to know I am worthy of flying.

As a Phoenix, I rose from the ashes of our intrepid past and overcame you, and then, myself. You became my nightmare, my demon in the dark. Now I see I had to experience you to get to me.

Alone in the darkness, I am no longer afraid. This past of which I face I have come to realize there is no more us, there is no more you, it’s just me standing tall and proud. The lone survivor of a distant memory.




I am an addict! I shake uncontrollably. As I wait for my next fix. Nothing matters now but my next high. My job, family, and friends have all gone away. As I sit here alone waiting for what comes next. There is nothing I can’t snort, shoot, or swallow and as I take my sweet candy. I can taste that ambrosia on my tongue. I swallow it down savoring the slow trek it makes down my throat and into my system. A release of endorphins floods me as they join together in a joyous chorus of pure ecstasy. My last thoughts before the high take over completely are “is this the high that gets me to the sweet release of death?”

I am a killer! I revel in the sweet stench of death! I bide my time, wait for the perfect moment, then move in for the kill! As crimson waves pour out of her skin changing its color from a lush pink to a waxing grey a giggle escapes me. I watch with bated breath as the light fades from her eyes. I can almost feel the moment they become two lifeless orbs. Permanently fixed in death. My thirst for death abated for the time being. I dispose of her the best way I know how. I go on about my life as if nothing happened. No one ever knowing my dark secret only I share with the voices in my head. I mingle among, the rest of you, waiting for that hunger, that, need, that thirst to rise again.

I am a sexual deviant! I wait until the witching hour. Then I make my way down to the seediest part of town and that club. That club everyone knows but no one ever talks about. The place where whips and chains decorate the walls. Where a handy means more than one thing and I can just relax and be my own perverted self because I am finally home. With the scent of blood and other things mingled in the air. I breathe in the depravity with a sense of peace and calm. This is my happy place.

I am an animal! The night is mine! The world is my oyster! Iv’e  been moon-kissed and as he shines his light down upon me the wildness takes hold. I lift my head and scent the wind with my big snout. I catch the scent of my prey I have been stalking for well over an hour. I tick off the time in my head One… Two… Three then I pounce.  I capture the rodent in my heavy jowls. I can hear his bones breaking with the gnashing of my teeth. I can feel his heartbeat slow to nothingness. With his blood dripping off my chin I swallow him whole. With a satisfied growl, I chase the moonbeams silhouetted in the open field. I romp and play and howl at the moon. Until dawn breaks out over the horizon. Where I curl up to dream until night comes again.

I am a writer! I am all of these things and much much more! Yet, I am none of them all at the same time. My pen is my sword which I bring to life with a tiny flick of my wrist. My imagination is limitless. I walk a thin line between fiction and reality. Between the possible and the impossible. Everything I touch turns to words. Step into my mind won’t you? Let’s take a walk in someone else’s shoes.  All you have to do to enter my world is,  simply, turn the page.