Latest Stories
Most recently published stories in Poets.
Breathe
Breathe. They say you must breathe during intense emotional moments In your life. Breathe. They always want you to be calm and content. Breathe. But they don't know that your heart is racing and it's about to cross the finish line. Breathe. You begin to sweat and shake, up to the moment and during the moment that causes this emotional build up. Breathe. The moment has arrived at your front door but the thing people have been telling you to do isn't working. Breathe. You draw that last breath before the heartbreak. Breathe. All you can do is sit there not able to breathe, like as if you fell on your back and got the wind knocked out of you. Breathe. But this time it's a truck smashing into you, taking away your will to breathe. You hold your breath through the excruciating pain and anger, not able to let even a little whisper out, frozen in fear and distress. You finally breathe
By Carter Brassington8 years ago in Poets
Building
A builder's building is everything he has, when the building he spent so much time and effort on building comes crushing down it destroys him. The building he thought could reach the stars is now at ground zero, with nothing but rubble and ash in the aftermath. Although the builder knows his love and sweat has been demolished and crushed, he still knows he can rebuild, rebuild from the ground back up, he knows it'll take time and it won't be the same but it'll be stronger and grow taller.
By Carter Brassington8 years ago in Poets
Whiteboard
Everything is gone and there is no way to get it back exactly the way it was before. There is still a trace of all of it left behind on my skin, in my mind, on my heart. The only way to wipe the slate clean is to wash it out by the rain in the spray bottle, but how am I supposed to make the weather when I cannot even create happiness from something good in the past? I’m only here for others to write on and to get up and leave after affecting me. It is the only way of life that I know. The words you spoke, you wrote, they stained my heart and now you’re gone - never coming to claim them; although I wish you would. Allow me to create the happiness every human craves and then come back to me. I promise, I won’t hold a grudge; I’ll learn to create that rain of a spray bottle and give us a clean slate. The rain will take some time to dry, but we can learn how new we are, how different we have become. Your ink will glide down my front and we will see that this will be difficult for the both of us to be new, but virtually the same. From the outside, you are just a marker, losing a little of yourself every time you write. You are close to dying. I am just a whiteboard who is unwilling to retain your mistakes, but all too willing to relearn you every time.
By Taylor Coffey8 years ago in Poets
