Moments And Memories

Anaïs Nin, Fire: From “A Journal of Love”: The Unexpurgated Diary of Anaïs Nin, 1934–1937

writing prompts! I’m sorry what romance is this edition

no, I didn’t write these. you don’t have to fear for my sanity. 

waking up from a car crash with a different boyfriend than I remember

both me AND my crush got those daddy issues

my hot boss moved in with me…strictly for safety reasons!

blind date with a hot doctor got very weird, very fast

obnoxious guy next door is actually the art hoe of my dreams

my girlfriend who is young but old is an alien

she tries to turn me into a demon so we can be together FOREVER

wrist grabs, kissing and cross-dressing, oh my!

doctor wants to marry the dead girl on his gurney

bad-ass ice queen has a softer side…activated by a boy and cockroaches

flirty training techniques make him fear for his life

when your mom tries to get you laid and then tells your whole school about it

water nymph wants to seduce my cru- I mean the prince I have ZERO interest in

he wore a cardboard cutout with his crush’s face on it…that’s love

what to expect when you’re expecting a demon baby

got out of prison just in time to crash my bf’s wedding

proving that hoe-ing it up is beneficial to finding a relationship…w/SCIENCE

my crush has a secret future wife and she’s jelly

can’t stop flirting with the hottest ghost girls in school

pretend BF willing and able to catfish together but also why are we doing this?

she nearly drowned him, and now he’s in love with her

hospital roommate trying to cuddle in the middle of the night

I hired a hitman for myself, but his feelings were more romantic than murderous

he’s planning to kill her right after this date

she didn’t realize she’d been talking to her crush all along…in another man’s body

pret-endings

I fear I cannot give us a happy ending,

So I'll write us one. A "pret-ending"

A future where you get poems written for you

Because words are my "old, new, borrowed, and blue."

An ending in which our days begin together.

Mondays where I whine about the weather,

Tuesday mornings with a cup of tea,

I complain about a colleague, and you say, "How dare she!"

We'll make a pact to meet halfway

To have lunch together on Wednesdays.

Thursdays are for you to decide

Because I can't find anything to rhyme. I tried.

Fridays, we watch a movie or a show.

Flip a coin, heads I win- tails you lose. Let it go.

Weekends that I spend hearing you sing

Or sit and stare at you while you do your own thing.

We play a lot of rock-paper-scissors,

And the loser gets to chase away the lizards.

We fight over reading a book or watching the sundown

I look at you, watching the last rays shine, and put my book down.

Save me when I try to burn our kitchen

I'll do the dishes if you cook the chicken.

I'll watch you fall asleep

And talk you through your bad dreams.

Wake me up after your walk

You know how much I hate alarm clocks.

If wishes and boons were true

I'd trade the Midas touch for you.

As long as we cannot have of our happy ending,

I'll keep on writing us a pret-ending.

HANDS.

Why did we collectively agree

that love is stored in our hearts?

Why did no one stand up to argue

that love is within the other person's hands?

Trust me not?

Palm on your forehead late at night,

Checking your temperature.

A reassuring hand on your knee

When you're shaking with anxiety.

A grip around your wrists

While crossing the road.

Calloused fingers suddenly soft

While brushing tears off your cheeks.

Protective arm around your shoulders

when all you want is to lean.

Brush of fingers while passing a dish

Over the dinner table.

I'll cease to exist

When my heart stops beating

But I'll give you that letter with scrawly writings

Only when you pry it from my cold, dead hands.

Why are Niall Horan fans called Horan-dogs when we could be Horan-y? I mean... it's right there! how could he miss that?

ACTS OF SERVICE by judas h.

I read that Grief is a derived word

A word that stemmed from the Latin word gravis.

Gravis - Heavy.

A weight that we've to carry on our own

Because there's only I in Grief.

Most often there are no exit wounds.

It tears your skin and lodges within.

Sometimes we learn to live with it.

Sometimes we have to cut ourselves open and let it out.

And when there are exit wounds,

You've to be courageous enough to let it pass through you.

Tear open your skin twice.

There's no Us in Grief.

I can only sit next to you and hold your hand

While you're hurting.

Hoping you'll pull through.

And then help you stitch your exit wounds.

The kind of love...

I've never felt love like yours

The kind that

heals my inner child who made wrong choices in love and,

overpowers my insecurities with constant reassurance.

When you hold my ragged heart in your hands,

salving what's left of it,

I know it has never seen a safer place.

I've never felt the love I've for you

The kind that

wants you to be happy more than wanting you to be mine and,

has me wishing something for you on every fallen eyelash.

When I sit to pray and ask for your happiness along with others,

instead of our future,

I know the love I've for you is beyond just us.

I've never been in love like ours

The kind that

is better than the ones in movies and,

no amount of lyrics can contain.

When we feel the world stop when our foreheads touch and,

time slow when your lips meet mine.

I know I'm learning what love is.

#story #writers #writersofinstagram #writerscommunity #poetry #poetrycommunity #poetsofinstagram #poem #words #write #love

“Hey,” he said, half-asleep, “what were you before you met me?”

“I think I was drowning.” A pause.

“And what are you now?” he whispered, sinking.

I thought for a second. “Water.”