Destinations: Poetry, Pros, and Creative Writing

The Isles of Love, Heartbreak, and Lessons

Cranberry Juice

Cranberry juice fills the nostrils of the two brown haired kids

A flavor that neither of the kids enjoy

The blind woman sits on her chair replacing her cranberry juice lid

The blind woman shifts to a piano where her musical notes deploy

The kids sit in awe. Then one asked...

"How can she play the piano without being able to see?"

"Memories," She replied simply.

Her hands shift up and down the keys as if it was an extension of her soul.

What the blind woman didn't know is she was teaching these kids a valuable lesson.

Music isn't supposed to be experienced in one way.

The minutes shifted too hours, just as the sun shifted with the moon.

Before the blind woman lays them to rest the kids ask.

"Can we have some cranberry juice?"

The blind woman stood in confusion, she said.

"You don't like cranberry juice"

The kids reply.

"We don't but we are hoping the cranberry juice will give us the memories you use to play the piano so we can play like you"

With a laugh from her gut she said,

"Young kid's my memories don't come from the cranberry juice, they come from sharing moments with you as you've grown up. I learned to play the piano just for you two."

And with that she quieted them and laid them to bed.

Sentimental thoughts

*buzz* I check my phone. It's a message from someone unknown. It was a moment I didn't know would spark such longing lust. My stomach was filled with butterflies waiting for the moment I met his physical body rather than his digital form. He entered my car. A mysterious stranger who I tried feverishly to entertain. It must have worked because now I think he's hooked. Well I hope he is cause I am for sure hooked. My thoughts are filled with the memories of his soft hands grabbing mine. Spending hours in my car with our only audience being a stop sign. His warmth comforts the cracks in my heart. This has led me to never wanting to be apart. His calm tone and his handsome face look at me with what I can only deem as curiosity. I slip into visions and writings of our future fantasies. I'm falling for him. No, I'm plummeting for him. He is the angel I didn't know I believed in. He is the spark of hope I didn't know I was missin. My only wish is that I fulfill joy for him, because he has made me happy and I only want to do the same for him. My truly beloved boyfriend.

My truly beloved boyfriend

Why am I like this? Why do I crave his loving bliss?

I don't trust him, yet I haven't been given a reason to not. Yet the hours I'm left without communication leaves my heart in a knot.

Maybe it's because when he holds me my malice is drowned with warmth. That is a possibility as my affection for him is leading me towards growth.

I don't think I do the same for him though. At least he hasn't displayed it to me in a show.

Loud, crazy and quirky is exactly what I embody. He's quiet, reserved and soft spoken until he's against my body.