Amelia Foster is stitched across the left breast pocket of my shirt. The stitching is neat, very thin and firmly sewn. The thread used is a dark blue, almost navy but not quite. I don’t like it. I don’t think I’ve ever liked it. The stitching says my name is Amelia; but there are dozens of people who live with me who don’t call me that. They call ( Read more... )

Early in the morn, sun peeping through blinds,

making sure I’m awake, like a mother without words;

woo me to life.

Light flooding my browns,

rub the strain with my hands,

search a smile in the mirror.

Lips like a curve,

Down, down, down.

On a beautiful day, my lips are down, down, down.

Leaving my womb,

Walk into the light ( Read more... )

Based on true events and the poem ‘Bright Darkness’ by Samantha M. P.

Between the moments I am sleeping, and the time I pull myself out from under the sheets; I spend some time thinking. I’m sure everyone does it; just lies there in bed and mulls over every little thing that has happened in the past day, or week… even their whole life.

That’s me ( Read more... )

From the writer,

So I've hit a point in my life where nothing I do is good enough [for me] and I look at my writing now and think that every idea I've come up with is complete rubbish, and it is, it makes no sense. Sure, I have one poem that makes me happy, but how long before I start thinking it's just another piece of scrunched up paper in the ( Read more... )