creative writing – Page 188

Omw

Guide me to a place of strategy. Draw me a map in color with a key Send me blueprints of the vessel I should build I will build and explore and search for what becomes of it all -Saschia

Funny how things work out How people show up And make you proud of who you are Or make you feel less than who you are both people come and go They make impacts They go on with their lives With their red Rose’s or their brass scales And think briefly of you now andContinue reading “We Go On–We All Do”

Ambivalent

I have no side to take Ambivalence is all I’ve ever known Conflicted to the core

Two Baby Girls

She dances while I sleep And hiccups while I binge watch Netflix She’s a part of me One with me Her sister is my closest friend and family. She lights up my life with her smile and makes me feel at home with her presence Two baby girls to hug and love to sing andContinue reading “Two Baby Girls”

Curiosity

My work is useless without curiosity It’s my current the wind in my sails Without it my words are purely entertainment and lack depth So I read and explore and question life… -Saschia

Echoes

The moon crosses the sky Have I forgot something Is the laundry done The spirits circle my car Echoes of tummy growls Did I eat Take my hand love me raw Wrap your arms around my vibrations Do I have to ask -Saschia

Untitled

I give pieces of me Raw and unfiltered I give every night my last thoughts My dreams nightmares and wishes And I worry that I’ll be misunderstood -Saschia

Cloudy

I’m lost in the clouds reality swirls into a blur of colors while Hope flits in and out like a restless cat How do I touch down? Toes wiggling with Two feet on the ground -Saschia

A Distant Symphony

There’s this tiny space inside me. It has a tiny door with a button handle. A button you’d sew on a shirt. It was a fancy gold one. Round and shiny. I could hear music playing from the other side so I got on all fours and placed my ear right up against it. TheContinue reading “A Distant Symphony”

Puddle of Life

Life leaked out my finger tips It was a sloppy puddle of mush leaving only a carcass of skin slabbed on bone Like a chicken on a cheerful walk to the slaughterhouse emptied mindless and tired -Saschia