You left my crying on the bathroom floor. Of a strange house. I wasn’t crying over the loss of you. I was gutted by your cruelty. Over the realization that you are not capable of keeping a promise. Even in the name of love. Not even then. Over the lies. The half truths. All the … More Not Even
I don’t think there is a shower long enough or hot enough to cleanse myself of you. Your dirt has penetrated my pores. Like a hideous tattoo. And the smell of narcissism lingers a long time. Such a long time. It’s acrid. It burns. Like lemon juice on a fresh cut. There is no scrubbing … More The dirt
We used to count the days, And then the hours, Until we could be together again. The anticipation was exhilarating. If I could have counted the breaths I would have. Each one a second closer to you. To us. To that moment when you looked at me. The way you use to look at me. … More The Hours
I am not the same as I was then. When you knew me. You don’t know me anymore. Even though it was you that changed me. My heart is different. It’s all different. There are moments I wish I could go back, To who I was then. But I know I can’t. And I shouldn’t. … More Different
We sit in silence her and I. It’s late and I’ve turned out the lights. I lift her, not an easy task anymore, up onto the chest of drawers in front of my bedroom window. I open the curtains so we can watch the storm brewing to the east. Sheet lightening fills the sky in … More The Calm
I wrote a poem for you. It was soft and sweet. It spoke of love, And dreams. Beautiful dreams. There were verses about passion, About desire. Sweet, sweet desire. I recalled all of the feelings, The sensations of you and I. It was so much. So very much. My heart was full with us. I … More A Poem For You
I feel the tall grass brush across my bare legs as I stand facing the water. The sun is hot. The slight breeze coming off the lake offers only mild relief. It’s glorious. This is the place I go when I need a place to go. And it’s not about getting away from something but … More Into the Blue
It’s better to have loved and lost than never to have loved at all. Is it? Is it really? Or is that just another lie we tell ourselves because it’s prettier than the truth?
Some days I write until there’s nothing left to say.The words spill on to the page almost on their own.There are times the words surprise me.The thoughts and the feelings I didn’t know existed,until I see them there in front of me.And sometimes it’s good.Helpful.And sometimes it cuts me.Makes me catch my breath and forget … More Until There’s Nothing Left
I’ve never really been lonely being alone.Until now.It feels different now.And the feeling follows me around.Alone or not,I feel the loneliness.The loss.The emptiness.Ans it’s a hole I don’t want to fill.Because I don’t want to try.It’s too risky.So, I welcome the loneliness,Invite it to stay.Make peace with it.Because it’s what I have now.
Alice Wonders Out Loud 