Haiku Horizons, Space

Crowd me with clutter

Gasping, struggling for white air

Give me space to dance.

English: Photo of the living room of a compuls...

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Ocean, Spacious, Sky

Diamond peaked waves twinkle, stars

Be One with Nature.

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She struggles for space
cloying boyfriend glued, shadow
Try to rip layer.

 

 

 

 

 

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I Called Him *William

We were best friends, William and I, all through college and I had hoped we would be friends all our lives. Long ago, when we were 18, he wanted me to be his girlfriend and I wasn’t ready to be anyone’s girlfriend, I was scared and emotionally immature. We went to one formal dance together, he arrived holding a dead, limp, rose.

True, his smile could light up the darkest day and to me he was an absolute beautiful, and handsome man, blond hair, brown eyes, someone I could trust and talk to but he talked with his mouth open revealing a mound of mashed potatoes. To this day, I can picture that sight.

English: A small plate with a serving of mashe...

If it was now, I would say, “Dude, where are your manners?” but at 18, what did I know? I didn’t know one single thing. I did know that we made a pact that if by a certain age we weren’t married to other people we would marry each other but I would bet a million dollars Billy wouldn’t remember that.

Everyone called him Billy or Bill  even now I would refer to him as Bill but during the glory years of youth he was my William. People in our dorms were sure we would get married. After we graduated I wanted to move to Boston, mostly because I thought William was going to live there. I moved, he didn’t.

What finally made me wake up and truly understand William and relieve all the guilt that I had (he had made me feel guilty for years) for not dating him was when he called me, years after we graduated and said he would be driving to Boston and he wanted to visit.  I said “YES, ” absolutely and he would stay over at my place.” This was it, once and for all I wanted to see what we had between us, obviously it was something.

He said he would come on a Friday afternoon, sure I was a tiny bit nervous but excited. I waited for him all day and night. This was long before cell phones. I didn’t hear from him, he hadn’t given me an exact time or day so I thought for sure he would arrive on Saturday.

Saturday and Sunday came and went, I was worried, very worried that something had happened to him, a bad accident, he was involved in a serious collision…something serious must have happened for William not to have come or call.

flipped car

Or so I thought.

I literally waited all weekend for him to show up but he never did, never called, first I was very disappointed and after that angry, very angry.

The man I had trusted and loved, through and through, yet not wanted to date when I was merely 18 just changed his mind and didn’t think about letting me know. I had finally reached him during the middle of the week and he said “Yeah, I didn’t think about calling, I changed my plans.”

Who was this guy?

Apparently this was the guy that deep down I knew existed, or some part of him that I didn’t like. This was hard to take, for me, but for him, maybe he wanted to punish me or maybe he really was just the guy, across the table, with no manners, eating with his mouth open, full of mashed potatoes.

He came to my wedding, after that, I never saw him again. I finally realized he was never my best friend, he just made me think he was. I still remember his birthday but I let go of him a long, long time ago.

*Name changed to protect the guilty.

FWF Kellie Elmore

Source: We Heart It

Source: We Heart It

You suddenly find yourself standing alone on an unknown sidewalk in an unknown place. It’s night and snowing and the only other person around is walking away from you….

Everything looks different at night, doesn’t it? I turned to watch the back of Julia’s slim body walk away from me, in the snow one last time. For a second I thought I would run after her, tell her I would change. But, I had gone down this road too many times, that even I didn’t believe my own shit now.

I liked to drink, so what? We all drank, mostly vodka, sometimes beer, I did cocaine a couple of times.  Julia and I lived together in our first floor apartment in Soho. Those were good times, we had just graduated from NYU, we both worked to pay the rent and we hung out with a bunch of friends. Sometimes our parents would write checks to help us out with the rent or just to be nice which was awesome for us.

We would have brunch on Sundays in the Village with our friends, mimosas were free and I knew the bartender, he and I were buddies, so he always gave me an extra shot or two of vodka in mine. It felt good to be with my girlfriend, out on Sundays in the summer sun. This was Julia’s idea of perfection, she looked forward to it every week, I loved that she looked so happy.

I don’t know if she suspected that I drank more than what she saw but she did give me a few curious looks now and then. Since she didn’t ask me about it, I chose not to tell her. I wasn’t lying really. Our fights were always about me drinking and getting high anyway, I didn’t want to start something else. No way.

We both drank, maybe me a little more, fine, a lot more and we got high once in a while, listened to music. I don’t even know when things started to change, I can’t remember although Julia could probably remember ever damn fucking situation that she seemed to bring up and throw in my face as often as she could. “Of course you can’t remember, she would scream at me you were totally doped up, drunk and passed out.”

She was right but I would never admit to it. I’m an angry drunk and I took my anger out on her, I threw things, broke things, I crashed her light green plates across the apartment but I never laid a hand on her. Almost came close, twice. Real close but I didn’t, she had gone but she had always come back after a couple of days. Always.

This time, was different. She gave me an ultimatum, choose a treatment program or her. I told her I would try, really try but this time but I saw golden sparks coming out of her deep brown eyes. She kept standing and wouldn’t sit down even when I tried to pull her close to me. When I tried to kiss her she moved away. “C’mon baby, I love you, don’t you know that?” I asked. She said she knew “but it wasn’t enough anymore.” I just kept shaking my head  and mumbling “no, can’t do, no, no, no, not for you, no, no, no.” She turned around and abruptly left my apartment slamming the door. The noise hurt my ears.

Since when is love not enough? I knew she loved me too. For a second I thought I would run after her but instead I lit up a joint, poured myself  a stiff drink, a tall vodka on ice. After a while, I didn’t care that she was gone, I was probably better off. She was just a nuisance anyway, always bugging me to get clean.

I didn’t need her anymore. I didn’t need anyone. I was happy just the way I was. Damn straight, I refilled my glass of vodka to the top.

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Free Write Friday-Words

A golden pearl necklace.

A golden pearl necklace. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

A white pearl necklace.

A white pearl necklace. (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

train – burlap – fiction – pearls – vertigo

Elizabeth sat upright, wearing a navy suit and sweater in the train. Her only adornment was a string of  pearls that she had been given by her mother, passed on by her grandmother on her 18th birthday.

Normally she would be dressed in jeans and her college sweatshirt with no pearls, her hair down but her mother forced her to wear this dreary outfit once every six months to visit her grandmother or “Grandmama.” Her mom really didn’t ask for much so she did it, but complained more and more each time.

The old bag was horrid, so demanding and old school, prejudiced and controlling. She only wanted Lizzy to be “associated” with upper crust white people like herself. Ugh. Lizzy smiled to herself, she definitely wanted to show grams the latest picture of her and Steve, her wonderful boyfriend who happened to be black, kissing in one of those photo booths. Just the thought of it made her laugh out loud.

Her mom was definitely cooler but when it came to her own mother she acted like a puppet probably because the old bag was a rich  bitch. “This is the last time I am doing this” she said out loud to nobody in particular. But, the train had stopped at her station and she willed herself to get out and walk towards her “Grandmama’s ” house although she had to admit, she wasn’t feeling as proper as she looked.

When her grandmother came to the sitting room she offered Elizabeth a cup of tea from the silver tea set which she accepted graciously.Her grandmother’s face turned sideways abruptly and stayed like that. Lizzy had no idea what she was doing. In a few minutes she was stabbing her cheek with her index finger. Lizzy started to giggle, “what on earth is she doing?” she thought. She really tried to stop but once giggling starts it takes on a life of its own. She bit her lip, trying to stop but burst out laughing. When she was quiet for ten seconds grandmother said firmly “Elizabeth Warren, I demand you to kiss me on my cheek!”

At that, Elizabeth lost it, she really did, first she stood up and howled and then when she calmed down she stood up in front of her Grandmother and said “Excuse me? You DEMAND a kiss? First of all that’s gross and second, no one demands me to do anything. Do YOU understand? Her grandmother was so shocked she said she was getting vertigo and that she might faint but Lizzy knew she was faking it.

“How dare you talk to me that way, Elizabeth! I am going to phone your mother and tell her what you have done.” “Feel free” Lizzie answered politely. She was mad at her mother for putting up with this but there was no way she was going to stand for it.

She stood directly in front of grandma and slowly unbuttoned her blue jacket to show a tight Tee shirt that had The Grateful Dead design on it, she pulled off her navy pants and showed off her beige leggings. She went to the garbage and disposed quite elegantly of her navy blue pumps and was feeling quite pleased with herself. She had taken a huge bag which had her ballet flats in them, because she planned to go to a concert afterwards anyway. She thought for a moment whether or not to ditch the pearls but she decided to leave them on, after all, her mom gave them to her.

Her grandmother’s eyes were wild with anger yet she was speechless, no one ever had disobeyed her like this before. Finally, before she left, Lizzy sat down on the couch and told her grandmother what her life really was like. She showed her the hemp bracelets that Steve made for her, dyed in different colors, she even tied one on her grandmother’s wrist. She made sure to show her the photo booth photos, she stood up, thanked her Grandmother for tea, exited quietly and shut the door behind her.

When she finally got home after seeing the concert her mother asked her how her visit was, with her grandmother. Apparently her grandmother hadn’t called. She grinned widely, shrugged her shoulders and said “fine.”

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Kellie Elmore, FWF. TRUST

Trust (Low album)

Trust (Low album) (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

I don’t trust anyone, anymore. Nobody. What, you expect me to? What the hell do you want from me. If you can’t trust your own parents then who can you trust?  My old shrink told me I have

Don't Trust Anyone But Us

Don’t Trust Anyone But Us (Photo credit: Wikipedia)

“trust issues.” No shit, bitch. I could have told you that first.

I trusted people when I was a kid, I was happy before I knew it was all bullshit. I used to laugh a lot too. I was innocent, maybe stupid. I played with my little brother Stevie and our dog Ginger.

Turns out my whole life was fake because I was living on a whole bunch of lies. I hate liars and I hated my parents. I was caught up in their friggin drama, those lying pieces of shit, crack heads, dealers.

Strangers started coming to our house, they looked scary, but mom and dad just told us to stay upstairs and shut our doors so they could be with their “friends.”

Our parents looked funny sometimes, it’s hard to explain. They slept during the day and were awake all night. I thought parents were supposed to protect us kids but it didn’t feel that way. My brother and I would make up stories about death,  knives with bloody edges, the sound of gunshots exploding, holes in people’s heads, murders and mysteries. I don’t really know why.

Finally, their friend Bobby told me all about the drug scam and why we had the money we did. He trusted ME and told me things, he became my friend, not theirs.  He used to play with my hair and call me pretty.

I was fifteen when I ran away with him because he said I was special. I wanted to bring Stevie but he said “No way” so I left home with him, promised Steve I’d come back for him and left in the middle of the night.

A year or so later I heard that our “parents”were busted and were in prison for grand theft, possession of drugs and drug running and I didn’t blink one eye, much less two. Let those bastards rot in hell is what I thought.

But, I cried for Stevie and the dog, all alone somewhere.
I stayed with Bobby for about a year but I knew Bobby was no good either. One night when Bobby was out of I escaped. I didn’t even care about Bobby and I just wanted to go home. I needed to go home. I knew my parents were in lock up because I sure didn’t want to see them. Not once.

When I got home I went to the court-house, trying to find my brother but they had no records. I was eighteen working at a local restaurant as a waitress, every night and taking a business class during the day.

After working there for almost a year,  I had adopted a new dog  called her Ginger 2 and was renting a room over the restaurant. I didn’t believe in happy or unhappy anymore, I didn’t bother anybody and they didn’t bother me.

I was working one night around 7:30  when a customer walked in. He took a seat at a booth and I was too tired to tell him booths were for two people or more. I went over to him to him to take his order his head buried in the menu.

Finally, looking  up at me were the same blue eyes and long eyelashes that I knew so well. We stared at each other for a few seconds in total silence. Then, we both burst into tears and hugged. We called each others name not letting go and sobbing. It was my baby brother all grown up.

Sure, I made a lot of mistakes in my life but the one, good thing I did was to keep my promise. Me and Stevie were together again, he trusted me, he knew that I would find him and I did.

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Kellie Elmore, Free Write Friday

Leaves Turn

Leaves Turn (Photo credit: Thomas Hawk)

foliage – amber – wicker – aroma – sweater – cocoa

My older sister and I came home for Fall break to visit our parents in Vermont. We tried to come home together in the Fall when leaves were turning amber and red, and we wore thick wool sweaters with, of course, down vests over them. We didn’t do this often (or often enough as our parents continuously said) but it made them happy and I had to admit it was nice being home together. The four of us and our golden lab, Sadie. We sat around the  fireplace in our living room snacking on white cheddar cheese and Carr’s water crackers and sipped mugs of mulled apple cider. We were, mesmerized by the sparks of the amber logs and listening to the hissing of the fire, talking until our voices lulled like the ending of a softly sung lullaby.

Our mom told us to go upstairs, knowing we wanted to catch up on “sister talk.” We flopped on my bed and sure enough my sister who had questioned me for months about my ” so-called secret” just stared at me.”Oh fine” I’ll tell you, but it’s nothing, I swear.” It wasn’t a big deal at all but since I hadn’t wanted to tell her in her mind she had inflated it to be some sort of romantic mystery. I knew though, she was NEVER going to stop asking me even if we were in an old age home together gumming tuna salad sandwiches when we were 85 and 90.

“UMMM” my sister asked impatiently, “continue!” “I sighed, older siblings can be so bossy…”okay, okay I had a huge crush on Robert.” There, are you satisfied?”  “No, she said, ” THAT’S IT?, Why didn’t you go out with him?” I just starting laughing, I knew she would be disappointed and I was enjoying myself.

Luckily our mom came up to our bedroom with the aroma of hot, homemade cocoa with marshmallows wafting in the air carrying a tray of two steamy cups of hot cocoa and a plate with her famous butter cookies right out of the oven. She looked at us with that Mom radar and said “What’s going on in here?” We both laughed and at the same time said our usual response, “Nothing.” She sighed and we yelled after her, “Thanks, Mom.”

As soon as she closed the door behind her my prosecuting attorney aka my sister demanded details, I said firmly “Look there is nothing to talk about, you dated him and after I met him last time we were home he stayed after the Thanksgiving party and helped me clean up and we talked for a long time” “That’s great! she said, You would be perfect together, date him, he meant nothing to me”. “Oh no, I said, not a chance in hell. You dated him, remember? NO WAY. “Oh get over yourself, so what, it was a fling, I have NO interest in him at all.”

Apparently my sister had a lot of “experience” but it just wasn’t my style. There was no chance I was going to date anyone who had dated my sister first. She rolled her eyes at me and said “You’re just being stupid,” and then I simply nodded to signify the conversation was over. I paused dramatically for about 10 seconds on purpose and then said slyly with a devilish look, “besides, I could never date a guy who pronounced foliage as foilage, could you?” We both burst out laughing hysterically, holding our stomachs. Some things we could stand for, others, like mispronouncing words, we could not. We must have laughed for ten minutes until our mom, called us down to help with dinner, even then, it was hard to keep a straight face.

Photo credit to photographer

I own no right except for publication of blog

Write Raw #6 (No Editing Allowed)

“Love is a piano dropped from a fourth story window, and you were in the wrong place at the wrong time.” – Ani DiFranco

I was rushing, as always, on the sidewalk of the Village, where I live, scooting under the fire escape when I realized something big was about to happen. I just didn’t know what it would be. Would someone die? Would my sister have her baby? Would Gramps have  a heart attack? The flush ran up my body and stayed there, even the wind that blew couldn’t erase the warm feeling inside me yet I couldn’t define it. I had just turned 26 a couple of days ago and my friends had given me a sweet, little party. They were all there and they had invited my boyfrieind, Matt and a few of his friends. Matt seemed off that night, I had no idea why. When I asked hilm, he just said ” he was tired.” He’s been real tired these last few weeks. I kinda want to go up to him , look at his green hazel eyes and shake him by the shoulders and just yell “what’s the matter with you” but I don

t. I think I’m scared to so I just leave it be. Part of me doesn’t want to know and as long as he hasn’t said anything definite, we’re still ok. I think.But what the hell do I know? I have no idea how to deal with his? He’s moody, he’s sometimes distant but arent’ people like that all the time? okay let me be more specific, aren’t men like that at some point? No one is perfect, I’m not for sure, but is it that glaring a flaw that we would break up? That seemed ridiculous. We’ve been together for four years. We LIVE together. I was probably over-worrying which is an annouying habit I have. I need to stop doing this.

I get to the apartment and Matt is there and he is in a cheerful mood and we hug and all of a sudden I’ve forgotten my former worries because he gave me a sweet, quick kiss on my lips and hugged me for a moment.We talked about where we should have dinner which always took so much time given that we were in a mecca of restaurants, we could have anything we wanted, all the time. We were spoiled we knew but that’s what lving in the Village was all about. It was about youth, and exploration and growing up after college and fun. We had fun in the village after our drone jobs in mid-town where I was basically a secretary )ok now they call us “Personal assistants” and Matt was an “Engineering Assistant/aide.” We both made very little money but we lived in a studio that had one futon that we covered with old Indian fabric, a small kitchen (tiny) that had 4 plates, a few pink-tinted glasses and some silverware we stole from NYU. QWe had a couple of plants that were barely alive and a cat named Oliver. The cat was his idea, not mine. I wanted a dog but he said they were too much responsibility since we were not home during the day. I guess he ‘s right but we culd have traded turnls going home at lunch and walking the dog. Matt was adamant and when he is like that I knew there were no negotaitions that would go on. Matt had a stubborn streak so I figured once we got married and bought a house, then I could have my dog, mayve two of them. When I mentioned this he laughed and nodded so I figured I would just delay my dream for the right time.And I was ok with that. Truly.

We decide to go out for Thai food, the one thing we can agree on effortlessly so that was nice; there was a small restaurant about four blocks from our apartment. Insided the restaurant, Matt s tarted getting gloomy again, not cheerful like he was at the apartment or particularly loving but totally different, quiet, moody and there was tension in the air. I knew this time I couldn’t avoid talking about it so after two glasses of beer I brought it up. “What’s going on Matthew?” I asked. “Just what the hell is going on ?” I need to know, I feel it but I don’t know what it is. He started to sit upp straight , he sighed and tried to take my hand but something about that all of a sudden felt creepy, I took my hand away. “I need to talk to you he said, his voice barely above a whisper.” My skin just froze, and I swear the blood that was flowing in my body myst have drained and left me for a puddle on the granite floors.

I felt afraid, and I felt confused. I literallly had no idea what he was about to say. He started talking, talking about things that happened 2 years ago when we were still dating and in school; like the time we went bowling and I won and he said I was showing off but I really wasn’t, I was just happy I won and besides it’s just a stupid game. “Are u kidding me, I asked?” He was not. He started telling me that he thought we needed to see other people that our relationship was getting too close to fast, that he wasn’t ready to make a commitment. “WHAT?” I screamed, “after all this time, “now you don’t want to be in a committed relationship” you wanted to be together forever, that’s what you said a few weeks ago when we talked about marriage and having a house, and the dogs I could have.,

He mumbled something about this being the “wrong time” and then I stopped and felt listless and I looked deeply into his blue eyes. There was something there that she hadn’t noticed before, she gasped and then she knew. He was lying about something, an she called him on it and with a heaving sigh that seemed to last for hours he admitted that he just wasn’t in love with her anymore. He had loved her once but it had been over for him for a long time and that he needed to leave, in fact he would leave that verysame evening. She couldn’t change it, she was stunned, in shock, she had had no idea, no clues. “It just wasn’t their time,”he muttered under his breath, as he stood up to pack his things to leave. They both stood up, her in shock, heimpervious to her pain, and walked out of the restaurant, towards their apartment walking, under the firescape, to get home.

Carry On Tuesday – If I could have just one wish….

‘Everyone says the same thing,’ she thought as she lay in the darkness, her arms folded above her head, hiding her face. ‘There is no secret, no surprise, no one is original, I’m certainly not.” Clara didn’t care about originality, she didn’t care about anything anymore, part of why her mother and father were always in her face, worried about her, crying over her. Why didn’t they see, she just wanted them to give her space, to leave her alone.

Her boyfriend of three years had left, they had broken up over a nasty fight and she had sent him away for good. At the moment it was definitely the right thing to do and she knew that. Max had become different, unreliable at times, unpredictable. She had asked him over and over if she had done anything wrong to upset him and he always laughed her off and just said “Nah, babe, it’s just how I am” and so she accepted it for a while. Other time he was his old self, happy, engaged and loving.

Clara knew that he had a new girlfriend, some girl who rode a Harley and dressed in black leather. It had taken him all of four days to rebound and get involved with this new biker chick and now they were inseparable. It made Clara sick to even think about it much less see them but she also couldn’t avoid it. This was no “Romeo and Juliette” love story. She knew that he was drinking a lot again, and she had always hated when he did that; he called her square and said she was “no fun.” She knew she was fun, she just was strong, strong enough not to put up with all his lame bullshit.

She wasn’t sorry she had broken up with him, not like all her girlfriends who had encouraged her to go back to him, those spineless goats. No, she wasn’t sorry at all. If she had one wish, one wish at all, she would have broken up with him three and a half years ago when her gut feelings told her he was a loser and that this was a relationship that was never going to go anywhere. That, was her biggest regret.

She crawled off the couch, took a shower and got dressed. She gathered her school books together and finished writing her essay for her college Literature class. She was done moping, he had taken up her time and energy, she didn’t need him anymore to prove herself. She went down the stairs, grabbed a cup of coffee, said a cheerful “good-bye” to her parents and headed off to class.

The Coolest Vehicle I've Driven

1985-1987 Ford Escort photographed in College ...

He Was My First And I Loved Him

His name was Eddie. That’s right, Eddie. As in Eddie Escort. A fine first vehicle for every young lady. He was cool, unpredictable, smooth. Could you count on him during the cold winter months? Hell, no. But, he was a sweet talker that landed me in a coveted space in the back parking lot where I worked after I did some clever maneuvering myself. Eddie Escort knew where he belonged and I made sure everyone else knew it too. You wouldn’t want to marry Eddie but as a first boyfriend, he was fine. He was exciting, even a little dangerous, sexy and well-built, he brought me to work and back, okay, sometimes we had to wait for AAA to bail us out but that just added to the suspense of our first relationship. Eddie was a Ford. A Ford Escort and he and I were cool. Together.

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How I Define Romance

English: Front view - St. Francisville Inn, a ...

ROMANCE CHANGES, LOVE DOESN’T

Ah romance, it’s what the world needs to feed our young souls. What romance means to me does not exactly coincide with my life but that’s okay. To me romance are glances, warm, velvet eyes looking directly into yours, quickly looking away. It is a surprise weekend at a place you love best, for me it would be to the ocean on a warm, sunny weekend, staying at a cozy Bed and Breakfast. It would still be roses, delivered to the house, in a long white box tied with a red ribbon, for no special reason. Perhaps a surprise dinner in a famous restaurant when your loved one just says” don’t wear jeans” and smiles sheepishly yet triumphantly.

Romance, when you are young is very different from when you are older. When I was in my twenties I remember a tee-shirt printed with my secret initials, a tiny teddy bear magnet and flowers in one night. It was holding hands in the freezing cold of a Boston winter when there was no need for gloves. It was having someone watch you with admiration while you slept.

Now, after being married for 23 years, romance is comfort. It is knowing you are married to your very best friend. It’s always having someone in your corner; it’s the person that knows you best of all. It’s watching television together so you can hear the other person laugh, it’s the comfort of silence and the knowledge that you can always be yourself. Romance changes; love doesn’t.

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