Twisted

He twirls the black ring around his index finger, unaware of how it sounds against his rough skin. His small brown eyes dart here and there eventually landed on my right shoulder.

Nervous laughter exudes from his lips which he keeps licking. He exams the white coffee mug, taking small sips, smiling at me now and then. A small succession of coughs escapes his throat.

Through the cafe window I can see the morning sunlight fading away as clouds cover the sky, darkling the cafe. I felt like I was nowhere, having all this empty space and all those empty chairs around us.

The sudden clanking sound of dishes falling onto the wooden floor awaken me from my sudden thoughts causing my body to jump. I turn my head in that direction and back to his tan face which was calm as a an unread book. I started to tell him I wanted to break up but then he interrupted me with the clearing of his throat.

He took a sip of his coffee. Then said he always admired my beauty and my brain but that I didn't arouse his interest enough. He had been in other relationships where the woman used to make his nerves jump but not me. I barely keep him interested. He wanted someone who he isn't so comfortable with. Someone who doesn't seem like a sister to him.

He slip his words out like musical notes, lowering his head to face me. In his thick southern accent, he tells me he had found someone else. Someone who fits more of his needs. Someone old-fashion, someone unlike me. He always wanted to marry a woman who would let him be the man, the bread maker. A woman's woman, he said. I wanted to correct him but decided against it.

Instead I said I didn't get what he means. He shakes his head as if he pity my confusion. I sipped my ice cold coffee through a very big red straw, twirling the straw against the melting ice. I try not to smile, holding my laughter in.

He turns around then and tapped the only other customer's shoulder. "I like you to meet my fiancée," he said with a shy smile, holding onto the woman's hand as she walks around to him. "Her name's Hilda." I smiled, pretending I was hurt but at the same time that I was okay with it all.

As she sits down next to him, a sudden thought came to me. Is she really a woman? Her face was creamy with too much powder and her eyes were covered in black mascara and fake eyelashes. As she said hello and shake my small hand with her large one, my suspicion rises. He, on the other hand, seem quite content holding Hilda's hand with a huge smile on his face.

I stood up, congratulated them and walk out to the rain. It was simpler than I thought.


Cafe Writing: Option Two

Eternal Rain

april drunk in eternal rain
drenched us in chaos and gray
the wind possesses us in its cold wings
keeping us wandering the streets
looking for bits of blue sky


Cafe Writing

Spring

all my memories have left
on a long virgin journey
chasing after spring's dalliance


Cafe Writing/ Monday Poetry Train/ One Single Impression

Unlucky

soft skin breaking off in flakes
brown and white
revealing pink pigment underneath
sensitive and new
aching through and through

hiding anger inside these thin walls
useless and meek
drowning my fragile mind in nothingness
dazed and empty
slipping through and through

left arm throbbing now and then
temperamental and weak
pain magnify by movements
tender and breakable
damaging through and through

gently easing back into the living
tired and down
seeking sleep in the dark of night
jumpy and moody
awake through and through

tumbling along this wrinkled path
unlucky and spent
time no longer in its place
slow and unchanged
waiting through and through


For Cafe Writing - Option Three

Mirror Mirror

This entry is for January Project at Cafe Writing for Option Four: Poetry.

“In silence and movement you can show the reflection of people.”
— Marcel Marceau

Using the quotation above as your inspiration, write a poem (any form is fine) about reflection.

inside the mirror she sees
a blurry mass of flesh
the colors fading upon her misplace skin
wavering in and out of the white space of time

"where am I?" she ask the face on the other side
fingers pointing in disappointment
"why is she here?"
she turns her fingers into a fist

and smash it against the cheek of the other face
slivers of lines begins to swim in zigzags
emerging cracks still reflects bits and pieces of her
she stares at them with cold eyes

pulls her hand inward, observes the breaking skin
feeling no pain
she turns back to the mirror
and screams "why can I see myself???"

Yesterday

This entry is for January Project at Cafe Writing for Option Two: Pick Three from these words: breathless, change, elusive, pensive, reflect, surge, tide, vibrant.

breathless, she runs to nowhere
elusive, she loses her only true love
pensive, she thinks of yesterday
nowhere, she sees herself
love, she doesn't have anymore
herself, she wonders if she can move on

Hope

This entry is for Cafe Writing December Project.

Option One: Pick Three Pick at least three of the following eight words, and write a paragraph, scene, flash-fic, essay, blog entry or poem using them. It’s fine to change tenses, or pluralize if you have to, but please bold the words you choose.

kindle, memory, spark, shattered, effulgent, joyful, softly, glistening

walking among the red roses
cover with light morning dew
she glance up at birds in new flight
spark by the memory of their glistening skin
she smiles softly remembering
spring's sun upon her face
she bath in the glorious warmth
of finding new life
and new hope