Writing Prompt

The morning light’s golden hue,

Filled the kitchen with an magical view.

He wraps his arm around my waist,

Whispering “I love you” then gone without a trace.

Off to work he goes,

Everything handmade.

From the stories we make,

To the bread that I bake....

I made my life for you,

My hands,

Binding,

Scrawling,

Bleeding,

Clawing,

Converting myself into a leather bound book.

I have painted the cover in memories and tears,

Ink drawn from my veins.

Putting pieces of myself together,

In a simple chapter by chapter description.

It’s not until chapter five, that you see my soul dance between pages.

Chapter fourteen, that you watch my mind scatter amongst ...

My handmads trauma

Made just for me

oh how lucky I should be

To be given a gift so unique

Beautiful with the makings of a rainbow

Red for the blood

Purple for the bruises

Blue for the tears

Green for the drug misuses

My handmade trauma

Made just for me

I Dream of the nights when he’d come come

That’s how I know what abuse is

And all the fabricated lies and excuses

The only gift my p...

With these two hands, anything can emurge.

I’ll lock myself in this room, emotional purge.

Put these two fabrics together for a quilt to keep me warm.

Maybe mix these flours together, tasty bread will form.

I find the in between, a place I drift off to flow.

Passion expressing, totally zoned in, letting it all go.

And if im feeling up to it, maybe Ill tackle this room.

Because somtimes its ...

I slip the mittens you made for me onto my hands

I remember the fire blazing that kept me warm

I remember how your needles clinked together as the yarn came together

I rember watching the yarn come together to shape things that would keep me warm

I remember your voice

Telling me stories

Storied of witches

And fairies

And castles

And everything magical

As I gaze at my hands I remember all the mem...

I thought about writing a letter

But something just didn’t feel right -

When I phished it out of my mind

And attempted to put it on paper..

So I figured, it wasn’t my true own thing

And I must be good doing something other

Than working with letters and concepts

And all.. I thought.. maybe running a poll?

It shouldn’t be difficult, ain’t it?

Just drop ‘em in numbers and see -

What they say. How t...

My thoughts and feeling belong to me,

I mother,

Oh friend,

What can’t you see,

I am lost,

Never to be found,

Unless you dig,

Right under the ground,...

You handmade your love just for me,

Crafting gentleness and warmth,

Trading your anger for forgiveness.

You smoothed your rough edges,

Casted out your hate,

And harbored sweetness and faith.

For the sake of love,

You changed your worst parts—

That’s how I know your love is true....

Truly, I would love to carve them up—

like a porcelain doll—

all my lovers, upside all around.

Not too grey, not too gay.

You run around like dirty mice;

I play with the ribbon lace,

I would have liked to wrap over you face,

to shut your rosy lips with grace.

To say I do not love you?

That would only cause haze.

I only dream of sculpting you up

in between the thin fingers,

near the palm of my han...

You see this house

Its blue bright brick walls

Standing tall

Its windows, all nice and dim—

Just the way

I like it.

I built it all by myself.

One day

I woke up—

Decrepit,

My bed, a pavement

On the street.

I cried to anyone

Who would listen,

“Am I not human too?”

Then I remembered—

Before houses became artificial,

My ancestors put their hands to work—

Started with clay for huts,

Moved to sticks a...