crying
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The trash man can have the the voices that tell you to toughen up, like feeling deeply is some kind of flaw, like tears are cracks instead of proof that something inside you is alive enough to break.Some of the strongest people I know cry every single day and still get up, still show up,… Read more
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It was not just the betrayal. It was the audacity, the way someone who laughed with you, prayed with you, and knew your vulnerabilities still chose to hurt you as if you were disposable, or a project ; one of many rather than singularly valuableThat is what unsettles you. You begin replaying conversations, revisiting moments,… Read more
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Life drags my body moves because it knows nothing else to do, yet breathing hurts like a fracture that never mends.The nights stretch, each one longer, the stars nothing but cold eyes watching What was once warmth is only dust now, slipping through my fingers as the mirror does not lie, a hollow face, pale… Read more
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Long ago on a cold February afternoon, forty years now past; he spoke her name in a promise, a loving vow wrapped in the scent of truth and eternity At times she sits, wandering through old photographs,remembering their two young faces, moments frozen forever The days now are alive with the pitter-patter of children’s feet,… Read more
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Today, I weep,then sleep,then weep againlike that lost sock from the laundry as I sit alone; the weight of the world sits deep within my emotions I reach for the remote yet the TV screen feels like a cruel joke, laughter without warmth,voices from other lives, all pretend I try to hold on,but the walls… Read more
The Quill of Samantha Grace Newcastle 