R.W.P "If I read a book and it makes my whole body so cold no fire can ever warm me, I know that is poetry".

Emily Dickinson

The Apartment Part IV

By WritingSugar,

1 comment

I looked around the apartment.

My soul was stuck in a bitter turmoil;

For the place looked exactly like I had pictured.

I stared at Derek.

 

“What are you doing here?”

He asked me. I looked at him and asked

“Shouldn’t that be my question?”

He arched one of his eyebrows.

 

“I want you to know that when you get home,

Package your things and leave.”

He looked surprised at my command,

As if I would allow a cheating man to remain with me.

 

“I will send you the divorce papers,

And you can have whatever you want,

I just want the apartment and left alone.”

I watched him take a seat.

 

“Sit down!”

He said it softly but I heard the clenching threat and demand

In his voice and the ticks in his cheeks.

I sat down.

 

“You have known me for ten yes and

Now you decide you want to divorce

Me without a reason.”

I thought he was joking until I looked at his face.

 

“Derek, I saw you!”

I said quietly for I wasn’t sure what was happening anymore.

Why would he try to deny something I saw?

He got up and slammed his fist into the kitchen wall.

 

“You ungrateful little bitch!”

I was bit thrown back for this was the first

Time I ever heard Derek curse.

My heart crack wider than the wall.

 

“I did all of this for you and this is what I get?”

He wasn’t done.

“I worked late each night; came here to work;

So I can buy you this fucking apartment!”

 

He wasn’t done.

“This is how you repay me,

You untruthful little bitch”

I stood up.

 

“Sit down!”

He pushed me back on the couch.

The cushions were the only comfort I got.

“All of this for you and you accuse me of cheating.”

 

“I saw you!”

I cried out.

“I saw you smiling, laughing, she had a ring on.

And this is my apartment! I wanted it first!”

 

I knew I sounded like a baby.

I could have slept with my shame

For a lifetime never even come

Close to the regret living inside of me.

 

“You saw me! Yes you saw me doing all

those things. Where is your trust that you

promise me long ago? Have I ever giving you

any reasons to doubt me?”

 

I didn’t say a word. I didn’t have an answer

That wouldn’t sound childish;

That wouldn’t sound ignorant;

That wouldn’t sound insignificant.

 

Shame was boiling inside of me

For I knew that the trust that was built

Over ten years was crumbling to pieces

When I first doubted Derek.

 

Two months, three days, five hours, and twenty seconds-

I watched Derek gave one white lie.

At the time if I had talked to him

I would have known the reasons.

 

Instead I found myself brooding

About the reasons behind the lie

Instead of the lie he actually told.

I cried.

 

“I want you to go home, pack your stuff

And leave. You can stay here, since

It’s the apartment you wanted-

I will send for you when I am ready.”

 

I didn’t beg.

I got up and walked out the door.

I was please for what was left of the night

Covered my agony and disgrace.

 

Once again, I blended myself with the night

Hoping to fight some of my shame off.

I tried walking backward.

Maybe reencounter the stolen love and peace we used to have.

 

What was done was done.

I didn’t know if Derek would forgive me

For the thin line of trust

Between Derek and I has been breached.

 

Where did we move on from all things broken?

When he will doubt whatever I say

And I will doubt rather he believed what I said.

The future will not show itself to me.

 

I heard the truth.

I heard the wind.

I heard the darkness.

If only I hadn’t read between the lines.

 

The Last Time I Saw Granny (pt 1)

By KRoc,

5 comments

My window faced a red brick building that housed a Vietnamese restaurant on the main floor and apartments, like ours, on the second and third floors. The only view I could get was if I looked up beyond the roof of the building and occasionally see clouds, stars, the edge of the moon at around 10pm, and the random raccoon. My mom bought me a telescope (or rather acquired one from a suitor) the Christmas before and I wondered if this was some kind of cruel joke.

I was kneeling in front of my vanity mirror, which was balanced on the thin edge of my windowsill. I parted my hair in the middle and started tying one half into a tight braid, my trademark hairstyle inspired by Marianne Ravenwood in Indiana Jones Raiders of the Lost Ark. No one in my school watched that movie cause it was too old, they all watched Spider Man and the new Transformers movie and stuff like that, but Indy was where it was really at. The new Indy films weren’t even that good, only the old ones were worth watching and I must have watched Raiders like a hundred times on this $2.99 VHS we bought at a garage sale. Marianne Ravenwood was my idol, I idolized her, everything about me wanted to be her, if I could be her I’d be my real self. She always had a smart remark, an ace up her sleeve, a plan of action, she was ready for anything. I had the shot-glass-sized lid from a bottle of mousse beside my vanity mirror. When my braids were in place I picked up the shot glass just like Marianne did in her opening scene of Raiders, tossed the imaginary liquid back, wiping my lips with the back of my hand before turning the cup upside down in mid air to show it was empty, then slamming it down on the window ledge. If you’ve seen the movie you know what I’m talking about.

That’s when my mom flung my bedroom door open causing it to bang against the foot of my bed like a gunshot. She looked at the bed as though surprised to find it there, which just showed you how often she was in my room.

“Pack your bag you’re going to Glenda’s for the weekend,” she announced. She was all dressed up which, since she didn’t have a job, meant she was going out with her friends. She was putting on an earring with one hand and opening my closet with the other. She pulled out my red ski jacket and threw it on the bed and walked out, her way of saying there was no discussing it. But I just had a shot and wasn’t going to take being pushed around. I stood at once and ran to the doorframe, not daring to pass the threshold lest my disobedience surpass my actual capabilities. She was standing in the kitchen and placing dishes near the sink, which was the next best thing to ‘in’ the sink. Continue reading →

The Apartment (Part 3)

By WritingSugar,

1 comment

III

 

She smiled.

Golden; shinning an endless brilliance

Of happiness. The little hope still stored

In me dropped faster than doubtfulness.

 

They smiled at each other.

I felt my soul tearing apart because

Those smiles, beautiful and lost to me now-

Were once all mine.

 

Even though now I can see that his smiles were rather

Cunning and charming and deceiving did not change

The fact that they were once all that I had.

All that I had.

 

I don’t know where I went wrong

That Derek would seek out another.

Was I not perfect to his every want? And need?

Was I not what he dreamt of?

 

I cried because I couldn’t remember

The last time I had seen Derek truly smiled.

I stood there and watched the corner of his eyes crinkling.

My heart tearing apart as I question the whys.

 

She pulled him in laughing.

Her sunny laughter echoed behind my disdainful features.

I sat on the floor deep in thought;

My mind tried to untwine his perpetual deceptions.

 

Time was of no significant

For my mind was blanker than a piece of paper.

The lines and margin disappeared.

No not printer paper. I know.

 

My mind, heaven forefend, is losing its wits.

Hope—I have lost.

For past times, I have developed vagabond habits

 That has interwoven with my melancholy moods.

 

I waited.

I pretended to count the lines on the floor.

I pretended that the tears streaming

Down my face gently wasn’t me really crying.

 

I sat there.

Waited and waited.

Almost asleep, the door opened.

She steps out—shamelessly smiling.

 

She came out with sizzling red hair.

Her long middle finger supported a ring

That looked slightly familiar.

She took the elevator.

 

I waited some more to make sure

There were no chances of her coming back

Before I move predatorily toward the

Unavoidable altercation.

 

I knocked.

My knock was still for my heart,

My retched heart was pounding louder

Than glass shattering to a squealing pitch

 

He opened the door smiling.

His smiled drew rigid; his eyes popped open when he saw who it was.

He stared at me, noticing my teary eyes.

“What are you doing here?”

 

He stole my question.

I looked in his eyes and realized how cold

And angry they were.

He motioned me in and slammed the door after me.

 

The Apartment (Part 2)

By WritingSugar,

2 comments

II

 

The building looked familiar.

And for the life of me I couldn’t silence the pending notion

Twirling in my head of the building’s importance.

It called me forth; a sultry siren beckoning me forth

 

My eyes narrowed when I realized this was the apartment

Derek and I had originally planned to buy.

The apartment with counters and cracks

I had touched and memorized to its finish.

 

When I realized we couldn’t afford it

My heart broke; it opened a new door

Named disappointment.

I realized now that this must have been the beginning.

 

The timing was right.

The timing was right for when doubt decided

To visit me, or I should rather say, stayed with me.

After that every dark corner was inspected by me.

 

I had thousands of questions,

Thousands of reasons pounding in a clenching

Tune with my heart. What was Derek doing here?

The possibility, my heart squeezed so tight-

 

I paused to collect myself before following him.

Each step; each breathe; throbbed louder

Than the declaration of a war beat

A conflict reaching its climax, I exhaled.

 

Why was I the only one hearing it?

I wanted to go back home.

Back to the cocoon Derek had created for me.

Back in time, before the decision to move settled.

 

I waited and watched as Derek drew a key

And got in the building. I was stuck in awe

That I almost lost the floor he was heading to.

But somehow I would have known which room even—blinded.

I followed—moving without the little

Protection the night was previously given me.

I knew the floor, I knew the door.

Just as it knew me.

 

I hide behind the door and

Time cease to exist while I counted

The mysterious numbers hidden in a second.

The door open—I froze.

The Apartment (Part 1)

By WritingSugar,

3 comments

I

 

The sky has a way of reflecting inner truth

That when it darkens and cries zealous thunder

I know, it knows the emotion boiling inside of me

As I follow Derek to 1985 Walton Street.

 

I was hoping my endless suspicious would soon

Lean toward a nascent confirmation.

I watched him; blending myself within the nights’ shadows as

Nocturnal animals lurked behind my fathom wrath.

 

Ten years, nine months, eight hours, and two seconds

I have shared my unconditional time with Derek, only to find

Two months, three days, five hours, and twenty seconds

I have waited to find out Derek’s motives and conspiracy-

 

The late night phone calls,

The shimmering whispers as I appeared

The secret corner upward lifts of his lips and eyes,

When he thinks I’m not watching him.

 

I trusted him.

Never questioned him for all times, only to find just one

Lingering answer he gave me once has opened

A can of hungry worms, patiently waiting to feed upon

His fleshly lies covering me like truth.

 

Trust built a great wall around my heart,

For all his cunning smiles, his chivalrous laugh

Bounced of me back to him, feeding him

Resilience to treat me the way he did.

 

I heard whispers, I heard telling

But I washed them off like I wash my hands of

My families who have told me Derek was no good.

Derek was good; Derek was best at playing me for a fool.

 

I followed him since his last phone call.

He told me he’d be working late.

He patched the way for me so smoothly

 That I blended with his dirty conscience.

 

I parked about a block behind him.

The alley screamed with mischief,

While the screeching wind blew my hair,

My hands were dipped into my pocket and I followed.

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