What Damon has shared in this YouTube short from a recent interview will remain with me for years to come.
How apropos is this right now at this very moment?!
Millions of people will have to accept what has occurred, endure it as best as we can, and eventually come out on top.
Hold on. Be strong. Don’t ever let go.
The boy on the corner
Is a stalking kind . . .
His father preys on fleshy,
Widowed women, and eats
Their hopes and dreams
For breakfast.
The boy, the apple now
Mimicking the tree, decides
To rob the schoolgirls of
Their flesh.
His kills are fresh,
They won’t be missed.
He observed their
Actions–comings and goings,
Little lives lost to a
Haunted heart.
No one questions him
About the items he steals
From each girl–his newfound
Possessions, memorabilia to
Be pedestaled for centuries to
Come.
A sordid life,
His legacy.
Daylight Saving Time Ends: Fall Back. Do not forget to turn/set your clocks back one hour beautiful people!
Have you gotten your copy of my new book: a collection of serial tales & flash fiction, Séduire (E-Book Version Only)? The paperback version will be released soon. Stay tuned!
The most recent book I’ve read is by the great words-worker himself, Mitch Albom, The Little Liar. This is the seventh book I’ve read by the author, so I am sure there’s no need to say how much I love his work.
But The Little Liar will stay with me for decades, just like Tuesdays with Morrie.
Below is the review I shared for it via Amazon:
“This Is Such A Poignant Work of Art!
I had no doubt that I would relish every word in this book, for I am a hardcore fan of Mitch Albom’s writing. To say that I flitted through so many emotions while reading The Little Liar is an understatement.
I laughed. I cried. I got angry. I sighed.
Every part in this book feels like truth being carried to the forefront; put on display for all to see. For this to be a work of fiction is almost unbelievable. It feels real. It seems real. I thought it was real. I had to remember several times throughout my reading, it is not.
However, it isn’t far from the truth. The Holocaust and the horrible tragedies many families endured in the 1940s can be found in these pages; only embellished or Houdini’d in a way that is digestible on a smaller level.
I became attached to Nico and Fannie. I rooted for Gisella to live a longer life, and I was sad when this did not occur. I prayed for Sebastian to find it in his heart to forgive his brother.
Every event happened in a way to shift the story full circle and allowed it to come back to what was most important, “The Truth.”
If you’re looking for the next fiction book you should read, look no further. It’s right here!”
If you do not have anything of interest on your reading list as of right now, add this book to it. You will not regret it.
I know you do. I ask
Not for a response, but
Rhetorically.
I received news that has
Broken me–torn my heart
Into thousands of pieces, so
I’m coming to you.
I always come to you–in
Sickness, health, during times
Of Sadness, and of joy.
This time, though . . . this
Time is different.
A feeling of worthlessness
Washes over me. I have
Been abandoned, neglected,
Rejected, and looked over for
Second bests and thriving
Environments are rising over
These selections.
Am I not worthy of coupleship?
Am I not worthy of a legacy?
Oh, God, the dog sleeps and
The tortoise has buried itself
Under its bedding in its cave.
They do not hear my cries.
The dog is deaf and the tortoise
Could care less, so I come
To you.
Four months later, he tells
Me of a baby girl he hasn’t been
Able to share . . . hasn’t been
Able to whisper to me of her
Name. Who we were stopped him.
We didn’t want marriage. We
Didn’t want children, but we
Loved them.
He married. He now has a child,
And four months later, he speaks.
About her . . . about the beauty
Behind her eyes.
My phone floods with pictures
Of this sweet and precious soul,
And I see him in her, his mother,
And his father, and then he says,
“We need to talk, but I’ll have
To find time to do so freely,
I didn’t want to
Tell you like this.”
And I break down.
Not from sadness about the
News. Not because I am
Not “The One.” But because he
Felt like he couldn’t tell me.
But because he felt like our
History–our trauma from our
Upbringings would crush his
Words.
How do you tell the
One you didn’t marry, you didn’t
Have children with because you
Both were afraid that you now
Have crossed off the second
Thing y’all never wanted to do?
I put on his shoes.
I take a walk in them.
I try to understand.
I take long, deep breaths, and
Then, I cry.
God, we are where we are
Because of the decisions
WE made. We ran. We felt
Like we would mess up
Just as our parents did.
We didn’t want to fuck up
Children–break the cycle,
Shift the curse . . .
Fear will make you miss out
On life. And it did. With us.
Keep him safe. His wife, too.
And now, his baby girl.
Please, God. I know you will.
I know you can.
And the pain I feel now
Will not be with me next year.
I will be free. I will accept
What is and what will be.
I know that my life as it is
Now will not be what it is
In the future.
Whatever you do, God,
While you’re remembering my
Prayers for him and his family,
Please remember me.
an unscheduled day off
enfolds my screaming body.
the mind stays strapped to
the foam of an
inviting mattress.
the soul cannot move.
I know these days . . .
mentally, I’m challenged,
and freeing myself from
the depths of this dark
space is often harder
than I’d like.
bedbound for the morning,
I watch news of Western NC
as cities lay underwater,
roads are washed away, my
friend’s brand new home
drowns before her eyes.
food and supplies have to be
air-dropped to designated
places.
“these are the last days.”
I turn over to reach
for someone to hold
and forget, momentarily,
that I live alone.
A Cornered Gurl 
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