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Loss Stories

loss

Sacred Phrase

Once you're self-aware, it must be spoken to wake the others.

Sigh, "You know what, this just sucks." "It is what it is, Zane, no need to get upset." "Yeah, but, ya know... that happened, man." "Let it go, it'll all be fine, everything will be fine." They looked at the situation they and their friends are in, there's only one way to describe it, they all noticed it, but are too afraid to speak on the subject, don't even want to think about it, for a mere thought will shut it all dow...

Beyond the veil, I cannot see; Does his heart still beat for me? Is mi amor forevermore? 🌹 Día de Muertos soothes my splintered heart, Pleading death does not keep souls apart. I lay one rose on my lover’s grave, A sign he’s here, I desperately crave. 🌹 Black lines crisscross upon my lips; Lips he once traced with tender fingertips. His favorite flowers adorn my hair; Inked roses embrace on skin left bare. 🌹 With papel...

Darkness, Thief Of Light

When the light fades...

Waking from my slumber, my eyes open Grateful darkness isn’t yet complete Staring out the window as despair creeps in While my vision skews the lights from the street. There was a time when things were much clearer A happier existence ere lights blurred A calmer, simpler time, and oh so sweet That stage of life before the dark occurred. Once all the sights before my eyes of blue Were awe-inspiring, lofty, and sublime But...

The Locket

Lily finds a locket, and so much more.

Lily Burke walked the beach every morning as long as it wasn’t raining cats and dogs. On the weekdays, she walked briskly to keep in shape. But on the weekends, she allowed herself to meander along the shoreline, looking for shells to add to her already overflowing collection. Sometimes she would find little treasures like a button or a hair clip. But on this particularly sunny morning, Lily spotted something that gleamed...

When I got home todayYou were gone It wasn’t just your presence But your joy Your vivacity Your essence Your car Wasn’t on the drive The house was silent Nothing was quite right Cushions out of place Dishes, where they were left Drawers cascaded Empty A hand written note Propped above the mantle My name etched In your blue script Gone Shopping Back soon

I don’t know when I lost her. She held on as long as she could. I was aloof. Careless. I loved her. I just never showed her how much. Now I can’t. She has flown away forever. I saw caterpillars. She saw butterflies.

Memories

Make the most of very moment...

I was flicking through sites on my phone while enjoying my morning coffee when I read an advertisement for a writing competition. To be eligible you were required to write a story of between one and five thousand words about a situation where you survived or had beaten the odds. I thought I love to write; I could do this! I finished my coffee and went back inside and headed to my home office and started my laptop and open...

My eyes opened to chaos. People's mouths stretched with screams, yet my ears heard nothing. Even more odd, I felt no pain. Five years later... I stood, literally and figuratively, on top of the world. Stretching my fingertips upward, I believed I could almost touch God. An unforgettable, powerful energy enveloped me as I looked down at the Himalayas. Peace had finally found me at roughly 29,000 feet in the sky!     Back a...

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‘Forgive me father for I have sinned...’ Father Joe usually took confession on a Friday evening and on one certain Friday in particular his first confession would also be his last of the evening. This one confession stunned him so to the point that he would not be able to continue on taking more. It would take him to his own past and also have him question his future. ‘...Twenty-five years ago, today I killed a boy and I...

Anonymous

To Purge

With grief comes trauma and then the purge

  Shock rushes through your very bones  To rise and fall like waves of a restless sea  Plunging your heart deep into the cavity of an abyss  Where all those go – that are amiss   You succumb to feeling numb  The present now out of place  No trace  No hint  Not a single glint  From what once felt so real   A tangible being  To touch  To smell  To hear  … Now you feel   As they persist to exist in your mind  You accept in v...

The Watered Down Version

Saying goodbye and moving on

In the watered down version of you, you are merely an acquaintance not the love from my youth. In this version, you are smaller with those thin hands that keep slipping through mine. And, yes, you still speak with a bit of a southern accent, but it’s not smooth or gentle. This voice does not grasp me at once wrapping me in the light that was you. Those sweetheart-baby doll-honey-sugar words are not lingering in the air. N...

Jacob calls me in the afternoons, around three to make sure I am out of bed. On this day, I am groggy, but I still answer. “Let’s go have a margarita at that Mexican place by the gallery tonight,” he says. “Not yet. OK?” “Oh, come now, Jane! They have great fajitas, killer salsa. Besides, margaritas are your fav!” “I’m not up for it. Not today,” “Have you been able to paint?” “No.” “Jane?” “My brain’s not working. There’s...

They called you King Edward. You were King of your ground.  Whether we were lonely, joyful, worn-down, or heartbroken, riding down the highway of life, with a switch of the radio, you could fill days with illusions to match any mood. There were colors spilling from the guitar, swirling into sounds that shook us, wrapped us, the eruption we didn’t expect. You molded our tiny, fragile worlds until we found our own strengths...

You weren’t always a ghost, sometimes a bit distant or “emotionally reserved” as they say, this easy, strong, quiet presence. Six feet tall and suave, you with the crazy wave in your hair, fierce dimples, a hint of gold around your pupils, all of it. You wrapped me. I was a junkie for years before the doctor gave us the diagnosis, that dim one. And so in time, you began to diminish. Mouth slack, the sunken eyes, all those...

I'm holding onto a book that doesn't belong to me.I've read its pages a thousand times but failed to seeThe words on the page no longer meant for me.Its title was hope, the author, my fantasy mind.The main character never caused any harm.His words were generous, loving, funny, and kind.I fell for his wit, awkwardness, passion, and charm.He dripped words painting stories for us to share.Fantasies voiced, marveled, woven in...