Umasabirah - These Are The Things That Keep Me Up At Night...

The Library, or Back to Before

I want to go to the

Library,

The one that exists only

In my mind

When I was a child

And couldn’t read

Reviews in my hand,

When I had to rely

On my mom to drive,

And I'd wander, until

I found something

That struck me.

I want to return

To a time I was still finding

How to feel,

Before I understood

How I am supposed to think.

The freedom in

Not knowing,

In nothing

Expected.

I yearn for my wonder,

The joy in simple things

Before I learned

How much can be taken

So quickly.

That thrill

Of discovery.

I don’t want to know

The pain of grief, of loss,

I pine for the naïvete

Of before she was

Gone.

I miss the me

Before I knew

What I was capable of

And what I was not.

Take me back

To possibilities

Before life and death

Crushed everything.

Luna

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Simpatico

Ceramic mug steaming

Warm, cinnamon-spiced.

Percussive pattering

On window-panes.

Wet leaves dancing,

Hyper-green against

Rolling grey.

Book in hand, cat in lap,

Pajama-clad and robe-wrapped;

These are my loves.

New horror story on Vocal:

https://vocal.media/horror/dr3-m-inc0l0r

Horror

dr3@mInc0l0r

Life is but a...

Fade

As I scroll through pictures of

My past, I wonder

How many moments have faded into

Oblivion,

With no formal record to remind me.

I used to keep receipts

From good times spent

Before everything was so

Well-documented.

My family would tease

For the habit I'd picked up

Somewhere

While I reminisced

That trip to a fast-food restaurant.

I still keep mementos

No one else would understand,

A piece of ribbon, confetti, a

Dried-out rose,

Unable to let go

Of the memories,

The people that have left my life

Where only scraps remain.

From Across the Room

She spotted him from across the busy coffee shop. He’d been looking at her moments before but averted his eyes down to his phone when she looked at him. His black hair was strategically messy and his five o’clock shadow seemed intentionally scruffy. As she watched him, he looked at her again and smiled, calculatedly embarrassed. Feeling her heart flutter, she smiled back and waved. Steeling her nerves, she picked up her mocha and maneuvered her way between patrons to his small table. 

“Is this seat taken?” she asked, sheepish. 

“No, please go ahead,” he responded in a low baritone.

She smiled and sat across from him, sealing her fate. Finally, the plan he’d been putting into place for weeks was set into motion.