I opened a book in my imagination.
The book was filled with tremendous experiences.
Experiences that are hollow, started from a small dot into a big humongous dot.
Non-stopped.
curious, and thrilling.
things that are waiting in front of me.
waiting to jump in, and explore, see the sensations while exploring.
do I feel like I'm flying from happiness,
or is it a long road of quietness.
will it be everlasting in my head,
or will it be a terrible escapade?
sometimes, it's a big whirl of thrilling escapades inside of me,
wanting to jump in and try.
but a wall hits it through knowing its treacherous.
Someday the wall will be open, and you can go ahead.
until than careful not to be tricked.
careful for that whirl inside of you, because it will turn you to an unexpected rode.
About the Creator
MArwa Kadhem
I am a beginner writer, I have dreamt to be one since I was a child. I love writing poetry and fictional fantasy books, some are short stories and Some are long.
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Clinging to Childhood
The playground is empty, as it should be past sundown. There is a warm breeze, and I can see everything despite the late hour. What time is it, anyway? It could very well be past midnight. I can never keep track of time, especially in the summer. A prickly piece of popcorn hides like a stowaway in the left cup of my padded training bra. I stuffed the tissue in last minute— a decision I’m beginning to regret, based on the events that are unfolding rapidly before me. To my left, laying non-chalantly on his back, is my date for the evening. He is two years older, could probably grow facial hair if he wanted to, and drives a secondhand Honda. He may as well be a Man. I, on the other hand, feel like a fraud with my too-short short-shorts, sparkly lip gloss, and makeshift push-up bra. I keep my arms pinned to my sides as I feel the dreaded circles of sweat beginning to manifest on my brand new Abercrombie top. I cup my elbows with my hands and stare down at my hint of cleavage, praying that the tissue doesn’t pop out like a white flag surrendouring my lack of womanhood.
By Marti Maley6 days ago in Fiction
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