In The Echo

When the door shut behind you

I felt my chest crack open

like a plum ripe to splitting

skin purpled like shadow

and tearing at the seams

to reveal the framework of bone

latticed around deflating lungs

my sternum finally loosening

as I breathed out at last.


Tonight we’re writing concept poems over at Poetics for dVersePoetsPub. If you want to join in click the badge above to check out the prompt.

Monsters Wearing Human Skin

You were a one person locus swarm.

Everything about me was razed in seconds.

Those carefully constructed pillars

I balanced my self esteem atop

became rubble,

and I watched you perch atop it,

smile wide and teeth white,

telling me it was better this way.

It wouldn’t do to get above my station.

Daily Post Prompt: Swarm

Poetry Anthologia -When The Sun Rises

We have two contributors for the second round of Poetry Anthology here at Writing and Works: Britaina Goffy, and Yoly Miller. I’ve had not bow out of this prompt due to NaNoWriMo consuming my soul but hopefully I’ll be back up and in the swing of things by next week.

4 [by Britaina Goffy]

If we’re still alive,
breathing air
If we’re still sane
somewhere deep
the sun will
higher, bright
to cleanse
 the air
free of scum
dark days, dark years ahead
long time to hold,
hold your breath
the sun still rises
and we
still breathe

Maybe Tomorrow (When the Sun Rises)

[by Yoly Miller]

I have no time for this
There are children to be minded
Religions to be lauded
and ideologies to be followed

To the letters on my phone
To the faceless voice that shouts for me to run
I have no time for heeding
let alone feeling anything but the fear inside my head
No time to vacillate between ignoring you or taking your warnings to heart

I want to breathe
to think
to feel like I am free again
But I don’t have time even for that

Maybe tomorrow
If I still breathe
If I still cry
If I still live
Perhaps then
When the sun rises I too will rise
Maybe then I will have time to see the truths I’ve been hiding from

With no courage to find my walking legs
No courage to gather my wits
No courage left to run away
With no more courage than what I use for surviving
I cannot do more than what I do
I’ve used it all up in staying safe inside my cage

Maybe tomorrow
If I can still think
If I can still feel
If I can still breathe
Perhaps then
When the sun rises to warm my naked bones
Perhaps then your voice can find me and save me from what waits for me every night at home

You see
I have no time for this
My children come first
My god comes second
and what you think is best for me comes so far last I can’t even see it.

I hear you
I hear you loud and clear
But remember
As thick as blood can be fear is always thicker

Call me tomorrow
Leave me a message
Text me all those numbers again and again
If I am still here I might hear you
If I still feel I might heed you
If I still breathe than I might still need you

Don’t give up on me
Don’t give up on me yet

If I do as you plead me to do I might not have another sunset
I might not have another tomorrow
I have to walk slowly
Walk in circles until the rage that binds me here stops raging
Only then can I hope to find my way to you

I hear you loud and clear
I see your outstretched hands
but there is much for me to lose tonight
Perhaps when the sun rises I will feel safe enough to try the unlocked doors to my cage
But until then please be content to hear me cry
and know I’m safe.


Pieces Of Me

You found me tacked to a wall,

half a shadow

pretending to smile,

still tearing chunks off myself

for someone else’s benefit.

Everything I was, I wanted

shivering, wasted,

pushed back for other’s things.

You were the first to ask for nothing.

You did not need a shoulder,

a listener,

or scaffolding for your spine.

You were solid

and generous.

I learnt that I could unpin myself,

trust you to catch the pieces as they fell,

be a little more selfish

and focus on the storm clouds

I realised I’d been lost in.

You showed me love



A quick write for the daily post prompt: Generous It sort of follows on from my poem Pieces Of You.


When it came to me,

you were the expert.

You knew how to play me perfectly,

even dint and every imperfection,

you knew how to press them to attention,

remind me of their existence,

herd me towards the idea that they held me back,

made me something less than myself,

and that only you could see past them.

I suppose I was not blameless,

I forgot to ask questions,

forgot to challenge the put downs,

forgot that I had legs and arms,

feelings and thoughts,

that the door was never locked

and I was free to walk away at any time.

You only ever thought  you were the expert.

I should have proved you wrong sooner.

Daily Prompt: Expert