wrentalks

[wrentalks]

“If love can fade, than so can pain”

Photo taken Sunday, February 2 6:30am

(viacarad1016)

[wrentalks]

ask

i ask the mirror

and it flinches

as if i’ve said something cruel

by looking.

i ask the morning

why it keeps coming

when i never ask it to.

it doesn’t answer.

it just blinds.

i asked once

for something simple

a reason,

a name,

a place to stand.

they gave me

noise,

labels,

a floor that shifted

when i finally stepped forward.

i asked to be seen

and learned

that being visible

is not the same as being known.

i asked for love

but didn’t read the small print.

(it said: return to sender.

contents may break in transit.)

i ask myself now

what i am still asking for.

but the question

is louder

than whatever

the answer was supposed to be.

@picklemafia

[wrentalks]

This is beautiful! I really love the dialogue between these two parts of the self, so real, so raw...

Final moment?

She doesn't deserve to live.

Facade, manipulation, lies, fake warmth.

After all this—

How can she ask to be forgived?

She deserves to live.

Assault, suppression, abuse, trauma.

After all this—

Doesn't she deserve to be forgived?

I stand in front of the mirror,

Ready to become my own reaper.

I look down at my trembling wrist,

Holding the knife tightly in my fist.

She is a liar.

She knows all the evil deeds he did.

Still—she lied to her own mother,

Never once lifting the lid.

She is a protector.

How could she tell her those deeds?

She was just a young kid.

Wearing silence like a second skin,

A foreign poison—she holds it within.

As the cold silver metal touched my skin, I flinch.

Why?—wasn't I ready to pay back for my sin?

I look back up at that girl in the mirror,

Holding her gaze—

In one glance, it feels like she wants to live.

In the next, it seems she just wants to give in.

My thoughts becoming haze.

Writer's Note~ hello! This is my poem "final moment?" My first ever attempt at a dramatic monologue poem.. pls share your thoughts on this.. and thank you @max-the-commander and @brontesinferno for helping me, also my submission for the prompt "knife" hosted by @picklemafia ^~^..

[wrentalks]

Lost in the loop of moments that never end.

[wrentalks]

The Shedding

Written by Aaliyah O'Neil

This poem was inspired by the prompt 'Skin,' provided by @butwhyareyoureyessosad and hosted by @picklemafia.

There is a skin I carry

that no one sees.

It doesn’t sweat or tan,

doesn’t scar the way real skin does.

It collects experience

like lint in a pocket—

the quiet weight of things

you think you’ve forgotten

but haven’t.

It thickens with every

not-quite scream,

every apology swallowed like stone,

every time I made myself smaller

to make room

for someone else’s storm.

And then—

something happens.

A rupture.

Not always loud,

sometimes just the sudden

realisation

that this isn’t mine anymore—

this shape,

this fear,

this script I’ve been mouthing

with someone else’s voice.

The skin starts to split.

Not violently.

More like fruit going soft

from the inside.

More like truth

finally outrunning denial.

It peels back

in sheets of memory—

the smell of old rooms,

the pressure of hands,

a laugh that never reached my eyes.

And beneath—

something tender.

Not new, exactly,

but untouched

by the story I kept telling myself.

I don’t know if it’s healing

or simply change.

But I know

I leave parts of me behind

like snakes leave ghosts

in the grass.

Each time,

I step out lighter,

less certain,

more honest.

Like beginning again

with no script,

just breath

and bare feet

on unfamiliar ground.

This is how I survive.

Not by hardening,

but by shedding

what was never meant

to stay.

[wrentalks]

• Oh, to be whisked away, searching for stories in the walls again. •

[From, Diana]

[wrentalks]

Have you ever seen brown eyes in the sun? You don't always notice it at first but you'll see that 'brown' no longer describes them. They melt into golden rays, circling an eclipse. There's nothing boring about brown eyes, not even when the later hours encroach; they just turn into a sunset of their own.

[wrentalks]

Solstice Dreaming

The fireflies descend again

A sweet and gentle kiss

I feel the ache start to begin

Unmitigated bliss

The sun is holding on tonight

The moon will have to wait

This is a dance, it's not a fight

A hunger left to sate

The clouds are dancing up above

And I am dreaming down below

Summer always smells like a love

That faded long ago

I'm stroking all the pages

I breathe a teary sigh

The fire always rages

No matter how I try

And though there is an ache

I will bear it with a smile

All of this and more I'd take

For it was all worthwhile

[wrentalks]

“summer- full of dreams, the soft sighs of honeybees, emerald and malachite upon the trees. summer- when the sun soothes your worries and you value the littlest things like fresh water and a cool breeze. remember, summer serves as an in between, a restful warm repreive. let not your heart be troubled but lay back into the breeze. these will be your sweetest memories.”

—

06.21.2022

happy summer solstice

[wrentalks]

Midsummer's eve (Johannus) on Seurasaari Island (Helsinki)

...and I wonder what's in this place that calls me so loudly, and what's inside me that answers so gladly...

[wrentalks]

Terry Winters @terrywinters9141

First light on the longest day of the year. The sun rises on the Summer Solstice in the Northern hemisphere.

Good morning. Enjoy your day.

[wrentalks]

A prompt: a garden drenched in sunlight

Grandma's glass of tea leaves a puddle on the picnic table as we shell peas, our thumbs turning purple from the hulls. Midmorning my cousin and I run through long corn rows, rough leaves scratching our arms as we hide under stalks twice as tall as our lithe bodies. Nostalgia is a butterfly resting on my small hand in the zinnia patch, the guineas running from boys with sticks. I can still feel the chill of damp quilts on the line as I press my sun- flushed face against the cotton, and I know where the flowers sleep in the shade. Under the poplars I gather petals for my pockets. These are the easy days of summer, before we know that summer has an end, the future a shimmering mystery on the far-off horizon. Each morning sun brings the hope of a new adventure, every night the soundtrack of crickets and cicadas flows through the pipeline of our dreams. Love is someone waiting when you find your way back from the creek with a bug bite and a sunburn, a stubbed toe and a grudge. Someday we will learn nothing stays forever, and we will leave this homeplace for the last time. But for now, it's a never-ending June, a lazy voyage through birdsong and melancholy windchimes, with a girl dreaming of something in a garden drenched in sunlight.

[wrentalks]

What was drenched in light

Now covered by the grey clouds

Humid and damp

It was the start

Of slogging and slacking

In front of the computer screen

The chaos of all the voices

Demanding completion

Of everything

Back home the parasites

Fill the spaces

I scrub and scrub

Till all is sparkling

And I still have

Things I need to complete

It maybe summer solstice

But it's just like any other day

I'm back in front of the screen

Scrunching numbers

Managing to scoff down

Some tit bits

In between the seconds

It's already the dawn of the night

It may have been the longest day

And yet there is never enough time

@poppiesandpromises

[wrentalks]

Longest day/drenched in light

[wrentalks]

june is jasmine and plumeria

a humidity hug, a welcome home

that never ceases to bring a smile as i step into a warmth encircling me

away from chilled a/c air

summer saunters in with living colour

a cobalt sky that breaks with billows of towering puffies that can dump a deluge of soaking rain

i revel in tropical breaths of sea salt breezes, sunning with geckos and ocean swims at sunset silhouetted by a june moon

there is a peace in the lapping surf and crystalline white sand under foot smoothing the calluses of life

©️-Aubrie-2025

[wrentalks]

The Forest Meadow 1876 by Hans Thoma

[wrentalks]

Later, I heard a laughter

Shards of glass on my skin

"you can't get rid of me, darling..."

I grabbed fate and

whispered sweet nothings

as I slit her throat