A letter from: That pretty flower you pluck and put in a vase, but it dies 3 days later b/c you didn't take care of it
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HousecatA small kitten in a big world
Autoplay OFF  •  a year ago
Made another thing...
It's been a week over my last post, maybe it's the rainy, cold weather my midwestern state's devolved into. My fear is the fall and winter will throw me into a depression, and I'll stop writing for 6 months. (Anyone else get the feeling they've used a line in Commaful before, and have to check through their stories. It's frustrating and makes you like your writing is bland, not going anywhere new.) So here's my obsession with flowers, tied with a twist of another mediocre love poem, with a side of the same similes. :P I'm not forcing myself to write, but trying to finish those thoughts that I get and make them poems, and not just have lines that I don't do anything with. So my plan is hitchhike to some Montana cabin that's been abadoned. Stay there until pretty things come through the ground again. The Writer's hiatus, the one you hear in books, and see on movies. Only maybe without getting kidnapped. I could grow a beard, wear flannel.

A letter from: That pretty flower you pluck and put in a vase, but it dies 3 days later b/c you didn't take care of it

by Housecat

I’m your mess, yet you refused to clean me up

Like a petulant child, crying yourself red from a sat position on the floor

Swept under the bed

hopefully be forgotten and never mentioned again

My story here flew away

with the dandelion tuff seeds Repurposed for another

I am an unfinished rubix cube, abandoned in frustration

One spring ago, I was a ‘delicate flower’

As the old women with wrinkles from their many disapprovals spout (And I stare blankly at their bulbous hats and flashy, broaches hanging limply, as my green spine, from their cardigans)

Now I am choked by your sun bleached weeds of influence

Sewn to a crack in the sidewalk, by your side

I can only hope to escape your cruel ties

To bloom again another spring

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HousecatBronze CommaA small kitten in a big world
a year agoReply
@bernardtwindwil that's a great idea, I'll definitely do it, thanks.

bernardtwindwilGold CommaGranddad & story teller, tomthepo8.com
a year agoReply
@Housecat Thank you for taking my comment as it was meant to be. Write a letter to your self while you are in an up mood, seal it, and open it and read it when you are in a "black slug" mood.

HousecatBronze CommaA small kitten in a big world
a year agoReply
@bernardtwindwil Thank you for the advice, you're always on the spot and supportive and just a great pillar of this community, and I know weather isn't the leading decider and everyone's different. It's just I usually end up not writing anything, because my insides feel like there's a black slug weighing on my chest, there's all this stress and anxiety bubbling in me related to school, and I'm always tired. And if I'm feeling dead inside during the summer, it's at least a comfort to look out and see the sun, or feel how warm it is, and look at the rose garden. But when everything's just as lifeless and cold as I feel, it's hard to find inspiration. While on the other hand, some of my friends thrive in that environment, and feel like shit during the summer. But hey, I'll get through it, I always do. I also don't wanna leave this site for months, so maybe the solution is to just active by reading and commenting on other's stuff, there's obviously more than one way to be a community member.

bernardtwindwilGold CommaGranddad & story teller, tomthepo8.com
a year agoReply
This is a significant poem. I admired your allegory of the wilted flower. Depression can strike you in warm sunny climates too. Forcing your self to write is not so bad. You could turn writing into a helpful habit. You are good at writing.