we show people
who they want
to respect

we yell
at ourselves
for who we aren’t

it’s out of habit
so they say
damn humans, so complicated

Inspired by VJ’s Weekly Challenge #80 – Habit  &  by Eugi’s Weekly Prompt 1/20/2020 – Complicated



Image credit – pxhere

Being In The Density

Nick Fewings – Unsplash

sharing space
with another
requires more than love

it’s a willingness
to let go
of one’s shield
diligently erected

a wanting
to feel the richness
of another’s essence
perhaps damaged

a deep need
to be enmeshed
on all the levels
partners wish to be seen

it’s a pact
for the happiness
of the other
in this dance of two beings

Wordle #439

The Sunday Whirl

I looked slim in my new jeans. My swagger, like a wolf on the prowl, looking to get an itch scratched. Forget this chill social life — time to hit the club.

While walking, a loud hoot startled me right up against the building. An owl in the city? Strange, I thought as I detangled the brick stones ivy tendril from my arm.

The club was pulsing, and I was determined to remain here until the sun rose. I removed my cloak. Mr. Hunky locked eyes and yelled, “Merry New Year!” My chance for fun! I flew towards him. 


Reblog – Strangers by River Dixon

River Dixon captured not only the nature of relationships in this piece but also, the evolution of change. Bravo!! This one HIT HOME for me.

The Stories In Between

We speak of rebirth

As the morning breaks around us

Something had to die before the dawn

Could take its hold on the frigid

Unforgiving taste of yesterday

It’s hard sometimes, most of the time

But we’ve worked things out this far

As I watch you from across the room

I’m taken back to the first time

Your eyes found something

Worth holding onto, in me

And now the years have brought us

To where we are today, holding on

By a thread of hope

That once again we can remember

Who that person is that somehow

Became a stranger to our eyes

View original post

Reblog – Rubber Ducky Day

Matt Snyder – A Prolific Potpourri shared what “Hits Home” for him. The Adventures of Arthur Puddles is refreshing and heartwarming. 🙂

The Adventures of Arthur Puddles

In today’s Adventures of Arthur Puddles we find him relaxing with his rubber ducky in the bath for National Rubber Ducky Day. The poor little ducky never made it to the water before Arthur fell asleep.

View original post



I nearly stumbled down the grassy hill after Theresa punched me in the stomach. My left arm struggled to hold on to the books in the crook of my elbow. The right one, swinging free, hung limp. It seemed the fear was more significant than my humiliation. I couldn’t fight back.

Theresa’s rage quickly turned towards my sister. For just a moment, I felt relief that I wasn’t her target anymore. But I did nothing to stop what was coming. My sister had her ponytail pulled so hard; I could see the redness of her scalp and little spots of blood from the ripped out hair. Still scared, I knew this aggression was far from over. The sinking feeling in my stomach was causing havoc on all the nerves in my body. I wished so hard not to be there anymore.

Why were we being attacked? What is it I was supposed to have done to Theresa for this aggression towards my sister and myself? I was so confused. I was scared too. So scared.

Theresa turned around to me again with a look that backed me way down into myself. She threatened my life, and I believed her. Then she slammed her open right hand so hard up against the left side of my head, leaving me with nothing but loud ringing in that ear. It was surreal. The left side of my whole body felt numb and on fire at the same time, while the right side was still part of the ordinary world. She glared at me as we both precariously stood on the hill. She’d braced herself into the hill, and I’d leaned slightly back, securing a foothold in the grass. I remember hearing her mumblings in my head after a bit, but for the life of me, not one sentence in my mind was coherent. I still can’t remember what she said or what I replied. Whatever it was that I uttered, the words seemed to appease her. I’d managed a reprieve for myself and my sister. Our tormentor finally left us alone and walked away.

I can still remember the colors of the grass. And the everydayness of that regular walk to the house. The smell of the wind wasn’t meaningful, and nothing was out of the ordinary. It was all just so average. In a second, all that changed to me becoming a bruised emotional wreck along with my sister. That afternoon was awful. Bathed in fear, I was feeling about as small as anyone could get. But I remember still being happy to have walked away relatively unscathed. This attack happened, for no reason other than Theresa had a bad day. She was a bully, and we were her targets du jour. We happened to cross paths with her on the way home from school — lucky us being in the wrong place at the wrong time.

In looking back, I realized courage was lacking in me that day. Self-preservation was the instinct on that hill. But it stirred a resolve in me. I wasn’t going to back down anymore. I realized I shouldn’t be afraid to stand against anyone who would seek to harm me or anyone else who was vulnerable. I wasn’t going to be intimidated anymore.

Reblog – Window Cleaning by VJ Knutson

M. A Morris is “continually impressed” by VJ Knutson. I feel the same. 🙂 This piece “hit home” for her. Thanks for sharing!

One Woman's Quest

Married addiction
adopted denial
settled for basics

Espoused spirituality
ignored infidelity,
pulled down the blinds.

Believed compassion
could compensate
for indifference.

Limited my outlook
to windows, too insecure
to de-smudge the pane.

Missed the gaping doorways,
the blatant rudeness
of belligerent disrespect

Till withdrawal prompted
accountability, commanded
ownership, changed the lock.

(Image from personal collection.)

View original post