Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Poets.
Blank Canvas
I won't ever allow him to the know the truth. Letting him in any further would only do damage to myself. He already has found my weaknesses. I see him staring into my eyes, likes he's looking through a glass window. There isn't much left to the person I thought I use to be. I'm just a blank canvas raw, empty, waiting to be created. I am slowly finding myself, defining myself by the shadow of him. I feel the heat on me now. Is there any excitement left in me, how can I break free of his stare, he's waiting on me to let go, to make a move. But I don't, the only thing he sees now is a reflection of himself. He tore me and rebuilt me into someone that he doesn't even like. There's no hope for us now.
By Katie Marson8 years ago in Poets
Sober, Happy, Healthy, and Selfish
Looking back, thinking of the person that the drugs had created. I find the only word coming to my mind "selfish". Drugs strip away every moral you thought you had for yourself. They overpower all the good you convince yourself that you still have. The love that you feel and crave from the feeling the drugs gives you, it is stronger than any love you could feel from any person. They've taken control of who you are and they're the only thing that matters now. You're swimming in the same circle day after day until you find the strength to break away from the undertow. Break away from the drug that will continue to call your name. You now become selfish in a different way, you will not allow yourself to enter that circle again, once you've learned how it feels to come up from the sinking ship you use to live on, you'll never jump back on board.
By Katie Marson8 years ago in Poets
Patience in Promises
There's something a little funny about patience. We're always promising ourselves that we will be patient. But here we go, doing things we said we'd wait for. We don't wait for nothing. Do we grab at opportunities with desire? or passion? or with selfishness? Longing for some attention, craving some affection, asking for some reason. It's killing us, we just couldn't wait until that day, and now it's stabbing us in the face. Oh how we've made a mistake. There's no going back, we wrote these promises in all the ink we had, and we can't make them disappear. How do we make them disappear?
By Namrata :)8 years ago in Poets
Emptiness
Emptiness is a burden some people tend to live with almost every day. You don’t know exactly how to describe it, other than a feeling of an actual hole in your chest. This hole feels as though it is in the place of your heart, you can feel the edges of it from where it was torn apart. And you don’t know how to fill the hole. It’s just there, and you don’t remember exactly when it ever tore, it just did. You may have some ideas of how it happened but there’s still a question. How do you fix it? Well, I would gladly like to provide you with the answer to this question, but I am in also dire need for an answer.
By Finlay Audrey8 years ago in Poets
Enough
I reminisce the days when my feet were above the sand and I was sitting on the swings. I sit there now, feet deep in the ground, drowning the thoughts of my childhood. Dug into the memories of the monkey bars, hanging on to the happy thoughts. The school bell rings, I didn't get a turn on the swings. Run back, sit down, and at the mere age of ten I thought about being good enough. I go home, thrilled to see my little sister and kick with her for a while. Baba didn't come home till late, slept without him most days. I caught a glimpse of him in the morning when I'd wake from nightmares of losing my mother. This was my life on repeat for years. Until I met my first lover and my first abuser. I couldn't differentiate between my dreams and reality. I still can't. I don't know what happened and what didn't.
By Namrata :)8 years ago in Poets
