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TW: suicide
It’s not over by @growyourpoetry on Instagram https://www.instagram.com/p/CfYyXlgKnz5/ If I could tell her one thing If I had one last moment with her I’d let her know That it’s not over That someday Maybe the pain wouldn’t cease But it would ease And be drowned out By the splendid colors of joy I’d tell her that someday The plagues of her past Wouldn’t haunt her every day That she’d find love That she’d find a purpose A reason to keep going I’d tell her That it’s not over That it’s never over Not really Not until you pull the trigger
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Caelyn thought that she was going to burst from the weight of it all. The feeling of a thousand eyes on her, the rapid thumping of her heart in her too-small chest, the pressure of the heavy crown resting above her brow. Her vision seemed to be outlined by a steady layer of pulsing red. A faint stinging sensation on her palm made its way to the forefront of her brain. Her fingernails digging into her hand? Most likely.
Her lungs were rapidly tightening. When had it become hard to breathe? Still, when she stood, her legs were steady and her voice was calm. “Excuse me,” she said. A few of her closest allies and advisors turned to face her, but the majority of the room continued their side conversations. The chatter of the people who utterly ignored her sent a fresh wave of rage and frustration coursing through her body. Her teeth grit. “Excuse me!” She didn’t uell, surprisingly, but her voice was forceful and left no room for disagreement. The other voices in the room slowly died down, each member turning to look at her in confusion. “This is a council meeting. A royal council meeting,” she said. “We are now starting ten minutes late because of all of your disrespect.” A few of the people shifted uncomfortably. A masculine figure in the back of the room snorted. “Sorry princess.” Caelyn found the source of the voice. Lord Harshaw, a ruddy-haired, stout member of House Fillamont. He’d been particularly…displeased with her as a girl. She remembered being told off by him on a number of occasions for chasing her male cousins around, being told that her behavior wasn’t “appropriate.” It was funny how they never received the same complaints. She held back a string of frustrations. “I am your queen, Lord Harshaw,” she said. “Not your princess. You will address me as such. Do I make myself clear?” Lord Harshaw frowned, his jaw bouncing as it was clenched. “Yes, Your Hi—Majesty.” Caelyn didn’t know whether the slip-up was intentional or not, but it wasn’t exactly like she could call him out for it. She took a breath, trying to call her father’s words back to her. “Never let them see that they get to you. If they see that they can exploit your weaknesses, they’ll never stop.” So, instead of lunging across the table and snapping Lord Harshaw’s neck as she so wished to, she pulled a tight smile onto her lips and said, “Splendid.” She turned to face the room. “I know that a lot of you have your concerns about my leadership,” she said. It was putting the blatant insults and threats that had graced her waking hours since her father’s death lightly, but, well, politics. “But, for better or worse, I am now the ruler of this kingdom. I expect to be treated as such. I will listen to your advice and wishes, but I will not bow to them.” “No offense, your majesty, but the kingdom has never been ruled by a woman on her own,” said a young lord from the back of the room. Caelyn had to hold back a bite. Why was it that when a man was forceful in the face of insults he was called assertive, while when a woman did the same she was called a bitch? She sighed. “And how will you ever know what I am capable of if you do not give me a chance to show you? I was named—” “But how can—” “—my father’s heir—” “We know, but—” “And how will you ever know what I am capable of if you do not give me a chance to speak?” she roared. It wasn’t like the big cats that the trainers had brought to the palace in her youth, but rather like a kitchen fire that had had salt thrown upon its flames. The lord who had been speaking to her jumped back, as if the flickering fire of her words could burn his skin. “The gods have deemed me fit to rule, else they’d have struck me down at my coronation. Whether you like it or not, I am your queen. If I am interrupted again, I will not hesitate to have my guards not only throw you out of the meeting, but out of this castle. Am I understood?” The table around her hesitated, seemingly unsure of how to respond. Finally, a chorus of, “Yes, Your Majesty,” echoed around the room. Caelyn sighed, tucking a strand of loose hair back behind her ear. “Now,” she said, waiting a second for the voices to die down. “Does anyone else have something that’s so important that it cannot wait until the open call for discussion?” A moment. Two. No one spoke up, either having no need to or too intimidated to. A small smile graced her lips. “Excellent. Then let us begin.” 28. Poison: Describe something toxic and its effects on a person. https://thinkwritten.com/poetry-prompts/
You’re toxic You drew me in With pretty words and gentle touches Like a moth to a flame Or a mouse to a trap You promised safety, shelter Arms to hide in Arms to hide from Why do you detest my arms? Why can’t I hold you? You promised love You promised fun Your lips tasted like candy But they felt like poison Sinking into my skin Infecting my brain With your words With your hate It’s been years Why won’t you get out of my head? I guess it’s too late For the antidote I miss last summer
The smell of chlorine in your hair The taste of lemonade on your lips The warmth of the sun And the warmth of your arms Keeping me safe from harm Late night talks And evening walks Toasting food and skin by the fire My love I miss Your summer kiss And the way that we desired Write a story about two characters who have been fighting for so long, they can’t remember what started it.https://blog.reedsy.com/creative-writing-prompts/general/write-a-story-about-two-characters-who-have-been-f/
Her eyes blaze. Then again, when do her eyes not blaze? Her angry words catch in my chest, lump in my throat. Whereas they might’ve once set me alight with her—a match to a puddle of gasoline—now, they just make me tired. How long have we been having this same argument? This same fight but in different fonts? I sigh. “What?” she snaps in response. “I’m tired.” “Then go to bed.” “I don’t mean sleepy. I’m tired, Jaden.” I run a hand down my face. “What is this?” “I could ask you the same question.” “Do you even remember why we’re fighting over this?” Her brows furrow and her mouth opens, ready to jump into another heated retort, but nothing comes out. She pauses, frowning. “I—I asked if you, if we, could talk about our future and you said—” “I listened. And I said that marriage wasn’t something that I could ever do, and you kept telling me you wanted it. Hell, Jaden, we’ve been having this same fight every day for three months.” “Not every day,” she pouts. “There’s been some good days.” “Some,” I concede. “But they’re always ruined by the bad ones. The wondering when the next fight is going to be.” She doesn’t have anything to say to that. “I’m tired of fighting with you all the damn time.” “Me too.” “So we need to stop this, love.” I cross my arms. “I don’t want to keep fighting. I know it hurts you, and I’m sorry for that, but I’ll never get married.” Her eyes light with angry fire once more. “See, this is why we keep fighting. You’re so fucking stubborn. Have you even thought this through at all? No, you’ve just made up your mind.” “That’s not true,” I say as gently as I can. “I’ve thought about it every day since we’ve been together. I wish that I could change this. If nothing else, it’d make you happy. But I can’t.” “Why not?” “You know about my parents.” “Why does it matter what happened to them? We’re different.” “We’ve fought for three months straight, and we’re not even engaged. What’s to stop it from becoming ten, twenty, thirty years if we’re married?” “So what? You’re just…giving up on all of this?” “I’m not saying that—” “But you are. Marriage is a part of the deal for me,” she says. “I’ve been dreaming about this since I was a little girl. I need that commitment, that agreement to keep trying.” “And a relationship isn’t enough?” “No, it’s not. If you think that you’re going to get trapped with me, then it’s not.” She hunches into herself. “If marriage is a deal-breaker for you, then we can’t keep doing this.” “Yeah,” I say. “I guess it is.” She looks up at me, her eyes wide and scared—as much as she tries to hide it. It breaks my heart. I wish that things could be different, but I don’t tell her that. “So…we’re done?” “Yeah,” I sigh. “We’re done.” I can’t get you outta my head
I can’t keep you outta my bed All of my friends tell me That I’m distracted Something’s off Something’s rough Please tell me why I can’t say no Please take me and let me go Don’t leave me hanging on Either take my hand Or take my heart Or leave me standing in the dust Baby if you must If you keep playing this game I won’t ever be the same Show me mercy Don’t destroy me I’ll make it worth your time |
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