Amee Moore
Stories (6)
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Imposter Syndrome
I know that I love you… I acknowledge that I don’t know how to. I also acknowledge that I want to. I love you in all the ways I want to be loved, because this is all that I know and selfishly hope you see the effort. I could give you the stars but if you desired the ocean the sentiment disappears, shrouded in the type of narcissism that can only accompany an ignorant lover. I’ll blame you when you fail to swoon, upset by the lack of basking in my admiration. You’ll comfort me and we’ll start again. Teach me how to care for you because I desperately want to. But is it because I love you or. Because I want you to love me too? Could you be anyone? Or do I love you and feel I need to prove I’m worthy? Do you see all the things I see in you? Am I loving you wrong or just not enough? Even though I’m pouring from an empty cup. do you not know how to love me or I’d it spite for not loving you correctly? I kiss your lips, undress when you request, serve you your meals, and tidy your things. Do anything I can to show you I care, that my biggest hope is you’re happy. This isn’t your faulqt nor responsibility. Though it seems like you enjoy, is it politeness rather than fulfillment? Is this what I’ve been taught or what you’ve shown me? Am I doing enough? Am I more of a chore than a hobby? When I say it is it not believable? When I need to touch your skin, do you understand? Is there a place for me in your chest where you hold space for the rest? When you kiss me back is it just for the sake of reciprocation? When you wrap your arms around me, do you understand? When you come because I need you, is it just because it’s the nice thing to do? But what do I do to do that for you? Can I hold your hand, would it help? Can I snuggle you close, would you feel it?
By Amee Moore3 years ago in Poets
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She settled in beside him, his body heat seeping through her clothes and staving off the cold. He had always been like a walking heater.it was a wonderful perk of spending time with him, never needed a blanket though she’d burrow beneath one anyway. They never spent much time cuddling because of it. He was tapping away at his Xbox controller, trying to unconscious a dinosaur so that he could then collect it. Sarah would then gleefully listen to him explain what it was, what it did, and all the stuff he could get with it. It was a typical night for them. She was content but pretty sure he was bored. He’d get fully consumed by his game eventually and completely forget she was there. The little icon that indicated someone in his tribe was active appeared in the top of corner of the screen. Sarah mood shifted as he put his headset on basically blocking her out. She threw her legs over his and got comfy. He wouldn't shew her away, but their night was basically over. She would get him back later before he went to bed if someone else didn't require his attention.
By Amee Moore3 years ago in Fiction
Nocturnal
Rustling leaves of the Mulberry tree subtly interrupted the buzz of silence. Soft moonlight blanketed the clearing. Bombi took a deep breath, fluttering her dripping wet wings as best she could. Spring breeze danced through the trees rattling the branches. She clung desperately to the thin shell of her previous home as it swung violently from side to side. Newborn wings would surely not carry her very far should her perch detach. Mustering what little strength her furry body was developing, Bombi scaled her home to the heavier limb it dangled from. Here she could rest until her flight came in. Her small moth body ached from months of metamorphosis causing her to tremble as did the foliage around her. Sydney watched from the back porch, feet propped up on the railing, sipping her beer and cringing at the non-alcoholic aftertaste. Silkworms had eaten through the Mulberry months ago. In some places they take the web and process them into silk, but Syd's family just knocked it down with a broom. She'd begged her father to wait until the worms had receded into their warm cocoons so she could relocate them, but many were just thrown to the ground. They would be back next year to eat the Mulberry tree bare all over again. One little silkworm managed to cling for dear life and wrap itself safe and warm. Sydney came out to decompress after long days. She saw the little cocoon hanging there everyday. It was a nice way to clear anything happening in her mind. Barely awakened from it's long hibernation, life beginning, and the first thing it would have to do was manage to survive the night. Of course, Sydney knew it wouldn't. Rita, the pretty-feathered owl that lived up in the loft, would catch sight of her soon enough. Syd kicked back and waited. It crossed her mind to help but there was nothing she could do. Rita's eyesight was 18x better than hers. She would find it and with brand new wings it would never be able to flutter fast enough. This full circle of life moment would happen whether she intervened or not. Something about that made her mildly sad as A shrill screech echoed in the dark followed by the frantic whoosh of Rita's wings, an unmistakable sound. Surprisingly when she descended from the barn it wasn't into the closest tree but onto something in the grass, a small rat or maybe a snake this time of year. Sydney saw the silk moth stiffen, go completely still, then decide to make a run for it. She wouldn't have don't that. It's easier for Rita to see moving prey. Rita swallowed the mouse whole, taking a moment to survey for another snack. Just as Syd suspected her eyes locked in on the silk moth attempting to scurry across the tree branch deeper into its green. Rita landed smoothly, talons securing her in place. The branch lurched violently under her weight, the silk moth bouncing into the air and onto the branch above. Rita attacked.
By Amee Moore4 years ago in Fiction
Impending Inevitability
Earth crunched beneath the weight of heavy boots trekking across once plentiful fields. Dust billowed into the air. Everything here was different. Photographs, the few that were left, portrayed this land as green and flourishing but the decimation was clear. She grimaced. There was nothing ugly about the desert itself. It was merely the harsh truth, the landscape a perfect picture of continuing destruction. Ever growing sandy plains represented nothing more than death.
By Amee Moore5 years ago in Fiction
Glitch
Leaves carried on the intense wind whipped through the air, flying directly into Henry's face as if the trees were holding a personal vendetta. He rolled his eyes catching glimpses of the blue- green tint they had. While the trust in his noble steed made this more of a minor convenience than an issue of possible fatality, disruption in his vision was his biggest pet peeve. Pride in his attention to detail one of his many vices. It was in his nature to catch the smallest details, some sort of residual survival instinct ingrained in his DNA despite the selectivity of this trait. Perhaps the acknowledgment was selective. He saw everything, but could only see what he wanted, such as the wild Glowtail resting on a large grey boulder beneath them.
By Amee Moore6 years ago in Futurism
