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Untitled (stranger conversations)

“She was so tired most of the time she did not even pretend to feel anything.” - Joyce Carol Oates

He told me I’m supposed to be a ray of sunlight, but the only time I see the sunshine is when it rises, passing over my windshield and reflecting across my rearview mirror. I watch my life disappear behind me, dusty roads from a town I no longer know growing hazy in the distance behind ripples of heat.

Ingrid Michaelson plays a bit too loud on my stereo, making me feel all of the things, but mostly the sadness, I tried to encapsulate the other night.You said I was too much for your fragile heart to handle, somehow the words escaping from a stranger’s mouth, and not from the man I share a bed with every night, hanging out in the open between us, heavy. 

Between sips of coffee, I decide that perhaps it’s better that I just feel nothing at all, if only to keep my own heart from shattering like glass.

◄ walls of glass

Untitled (on the field) ►


Emilia Callahan

Wed 16th Oct 2019 13:56

Thanks, Tom! This is one of my favorite styles too.

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Tue 15th Oct 2019 20:48

This is excellent - a short poetic story. It feels honest and heartfelt. I love it and this style very much. Thanks for sharing. T

Emilia Callahan

Tue 15th Oct 2019 20:21

Thanks, Candice! This was such a spur of the moment poem... it all just needed to be let out.

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Candice Reineke

Tue 1st Oct 2019 04:47

Emilia, this raw emotion that you’re letting the reader in on...thank you for your vulnerability. It’s a beautiful thing.?

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