He looked at the pile on the floor in front of him.
Everything there at one time meant the world to him.
And now they were flotsam in the backwaters of his life.
Picking them up, he turned from the trashcan and put them in a drawer. Not yet.
Feet drifted along the hardwood
Looking for the beat desperately since he felt his life depended on it
Of course, they could not find it and so he dreaded what would happen next
Ordinarily he would have abandoned ship and found a wall to prop up, but…
Rachel kept smiling at him as she tried to follow his lead, and that was all that counted
Relaxing against the wall, he watched his classmates convulse on the dance floor
Everything that night had been disastrous. First, his date ditched him
And she decided to slow dance with the person who used to be his best friend
Drinking his punch, he wondered what could possibly happen next, but then he laughed
Yes, he knew what was going to happen next. His master plan was working perfectly.
Baby porcelain doll, the last one her daughter had ever held, burst into sharp shards as it hit the floor
Releasing so many emotions in her, some she thought she had closed within that small casket
Everyone around her just stopped and stared, silent, not knowing what to do or say
As she watched those pieces scatter she started drowning in a psychological flood
Keeping the tears away was impossible as she felt something inside of her…
What seemed so light moments before threatened to pull her down into the depths of despair
Every time it happened it took so much strength to try to pick up the pieces and try to move on
It was no use. She broke.
Giving way to the gravity of it all, she sunk to the floor
Her eyes teared up, the heavy drops of water falling
They were children!
Focusing on her reflection in the mirror
Rachel wondered how she could go on
After everything she’d been through, there was so little left
Glass was far more robust than her current mental state
It felt like at any moment she would shatter into a million pieces
Leaving emotional shards across the floor
Except that’s when her son came by and gave her a hug, pulling her back together.
Puncturing that pompous balloon made me happy.
Observing his collapse to his mental floor a mere shell of his old ego gave me was the highlight of my day.
Perhaps I better worry that someone might do the same to me?
Dirt on the floor intermingled with peanut shells and spilled stale beer
It gave this old run-down bar a certain je ne sais quoi
Vacuuming up those plummeting through the floor of their lives
Enabling them a place to splash down while mumbling “Bottom’s up.”
He looked at the clutter around him. Neglected, half-finished dreams littered the desk, table, and sections of the floor. At one point each project had held so much life and promise, but now they were on life support, or worse yet zombified corpses. He wondered what was the best approach going forward. Maybe he should just put everything away and pull out pieces when he was ready to resurrect them, but that would mean confronting his failures, and he wasn’t emotionally prepared to do that just yet. Besides, he had a brand new idea, and he knew it would work.
Spinning around and around in tighter and tighter circles
Putting my equilibrium into the fetal position
I try to stop, but the world is now spinning up as I slow down
Reaching for the floor, I miss
And fall into some space that I didn’t know existed
Living now the pinwheel life
Stories and photos from Scotland
A paper-cut survivor
Abdi Mohammed
The Art of Prose and Poetry
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Sarah Torribio and her right brain. Music. Musings. Writing. Style.
We Survived and Arrived - Now as Warriors We Thrive
With previous posting of "Our World" on Blogger
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Random Stuff I Think You'll Like
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Never Short On Words 