Laura sloan
Bio
I wish to fill paper with words transfixed through out my mind as well as heart, out to anyone willing to listen.
Stories (2)
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Beauty In The Pitiful Field
It was the early rise of dawn, dew drippling from the leaves that crumbled beneath my cold feet as they carelessly touch the soft surface of earth. All nature breathing and growing before my awakened eyes. My head hummed with soft hymns, I can once again recall the early memories of childhood, the never ending hours of morning sitting in a crowded room filled with the sounds of a faith-filled lullaby, reciting each song into the young memory I once possessed. Now I find myself staring into a misty field, a field that would not seem like much at first glance but this pitiful terrain sweeps into rolling hills, furthering into the steepest of mountain. Pale fingers gently tracing the smooth tips of grasses as it rustles in the breeze. I can’t help but admire the sky so blue, the fresh air in my lungs. For this is a field of vision. A place in which I come to collect my thoughts. Furthermore, it is on this day, in this field, I have come to a conclusion about this uncertain life of mine. It is that we all start off somewhere. We are born into this world with a quest and that is to find ourselves, to find what people we are meant to be within this society. Like this field we are not sculpted to perfection, there are days when the wind blows too strong knocking us off our path, sometimes the bitter winter freezes us in place, oh but must we never forget those welcoming summer days when the most delicate of flowers flourish with confidence, making love to the birds and the bees. Life shifts through hills of complication, far and wide. Ultimately life is a mountain and we are all climbing to reach the greatest point. We will endure struggles but the result is well worth the wait. For my eyes have not yet seen such a sight.
By Laura sloan8 years ago in Poets
A Once Softened Heart
Silence filled the room, cold and empty. It became too hard to shove aside the dull ache coming from within my body. An ache derived from the shattering of a once softened heart, head filled with half-formed regrets, I yet again come to recall our last conversation. It continues to haunt me, replaying within every corner of my mind like an echo. I remind myself that a heart can keep on beating even after it has been broken in two. You had chosen your words so carelessly, each practically falling from your mouth like the cold drops from a faucet, yet every word spoken was a dagger in me. Still, I wish more than anything to keep you close, to spend those countless hours of time wasting away through the laughs you had so graciously given me. We were never close, not physically at the least. I regret missing the opportunity to simply feel your hand collide with mine, to stand in your presence even if not to make a word for looking into your eyes would be enough for my soul to be filled with your light. You always saw the light, even when all I could find was darkness. You stayed so long, but now I just long to stay in your life. To not be forgotten or erased from your memory. I can’t forget you. No matter how much I try you creep into the depths of life everywhere I go, in the things we both love, in art, in music, in the smiles of others. But I have come to the realization I must let you go now, if I don’t I never will. Your love for me has faded away into the night’s grimmest of sky, with the stars glistening, dancing in the moonlight like the ones we always said we would lay under. I lay down now and will sleep with hopes that the sun will rise, and the pain will seem to have vanished even if just the slightest bit. Goodbye to a stranger with the most bittersweet of memories.
By Laura sloan8 years ago in Poets
