A Subtle Thing.
An unhappy marriage understood by the mind of an oblivious husband.
It was such a small ping…
Barely a blip.
Yet it was ever-present; always there, sitting with a blank stare.
Easy to forget.
Hard to let go.
It didn’t act like the others.
They all seemed to burn brightly.
Its siblings could wash away an entire day.
But while they fade into wholesome memories,
The subtle thing wades into melancholy histories.
Ever-present and unyielding.
But never oppressive or over-bearing.
Whispers spoken in low, sobbing tones.
It shares the same stories.
A tale of loss after sweet history.
A prose of anguish after beautiful gatherings.
Broken by pokes and squeals.
But heard in jokes and suppressed words.
Unhappiness is never overt or outright.
It comes in the form of sweet times remembered through bitter tears.
It doesn’t explode or pop.
There is hardly a peep when Unhappiness saunters in.
Unhappiness was such a small thing.
Barely a blip!
I easily forgot it.
But, for her, it was hard to let go…
Unhappiness was always there, and it sat, ever-present…
In her blank stares.
About the Creator
Keep reading
More stories from Terrace Gibson and writers in Poets and other communities.
Primal Magic
Stepping off the concrete stair, I slide my feet through the sand, greeting each individual crystalized rock with my soles. A shuttering breath climbs out of my lungs as the sand gives way to cuddle my feet. It felt as if the sun's rays leaped in ecstasy, wrapping me in a warm embrace. From my bosom sprang gleeful beats, filling me with a comforting bliss as my body soaked in the sun. I choked back a sudden sob; these primal energies made tears well up in awe of their beauty.
By Terrace Gibson5 years ago in Humans
Smart phones, Humans and Aliens.
WARNING. I will be tapping into one of your favorite creative tensions: The absurdity of humans worshipping their glowing rectangles as if they were tiny oracles. There’s something deliciously poetic about that contradiction, and it lends itself beautifully to an instructive proviso.
By Novel Allen4 days ago in Poets
Autonomy Is The Real Privilege
Good morning, freedom-seekers! Today we’re gonna be looking at autonomy. A strange word, I know; one many would probably look at blankly and run away from on sight. We’re gonna figure out what it actually means, consider how it’s achieved, and decipher just how deeply most of us are tangled up in dependence without realising it.
By That ‘Freedom’ Guyabout 12 hours ago in Humans
Comments
There are no comments for this story
Be the first to respond and start the conversation.