Can't Carry This Weight
Transfer to my Diary
I keep a diary so that I can transfer some of this energy to the pages.
It is too much for me to carry alone.
Too heavy for me to hold.
My emotions have been too fragile to handle.
CAUTION!
proceed with care.
I want to escape the weight of my worries.
Discard the ones that make me weak.
Double the ones that make me strong.
Some days my bed is the only thing that can hold my weight without breaking.
I wish I could surrender.
Eliminate this pain forever.
That can't be the only option.
Give me every chance to make me better.
Help me to reflect healing.
No weight whatsoever.
About the Creator
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More stories from Crissy DXCII and writers in Poets and other communities.
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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