I Lost

Ron Lanham Writing

The way your eyes danced when I made you laugh. The shyness, you still had, when I kissed you deeply. The fact your face was the first thought my mind found, when a familiar song started. Honestly, that still happens. When you whispered those words, that you later admitted couldn’t be true. Those words, that my heart rejoiced in hearing. The warmth of your touch, on the coldest mornings and hottest nights. The cute way you would sing, when you didn’t know I was listening. Your dedication to hearth and home. The times you tried, when I didn’t. The fact we shared wins, losses, and laughs no one else could ever get. The way your voice and eye rolls would reassure me. These things I lost, when you realized it was over.

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“Darlin…”, the devil said, with a drawl so pronounced, you could smell mama’s chicken and okra on the stove, “…if we are not permitted on occasion, to bathe in the pools of self pity, lathering ourselves with the soothing essence of misery, while washing our hair in the effervescent pearls of despair, then what pray tell are we doing here…”

Tear for two

Ron Lanham Writing

tear roseHer words are carved deep into the signposts of this journey.  She speaks with a wisdom, a knowledge of life, it should require lifetimes to amass.  

She captivates me. Delighting me with her stunning tales of torment.  Allowing me to know her sorrow. To caress her pain. I had thought once, they were a cry for help.  I have come to discern, to appreciate fully, that she simply reflects my own despair.

As words spoken into a deep and wide canyon, her utterances, are as an echo reverberating back to me.  Delivered by her voice calm and sweet her tear stained narrative seduces my soul.

She makes me laugh as often as we share a tear.  Though it is the misery which has bound we two together.  To the affliction of adoration we are tethered.

Reminding me of the heavy cost exacted in anguish born of having danced too…

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Place Your Bets

Only an observation, likely something suggested
in folly. We can keep on wishing darlin’. Or we
can embrace opportunity.

Rolling with the punches
as they say, has come so natural. If indeed
that, something better, presents itself, manifesting
our truest desire, perhaps we will discern it more
easily if we engage in the mundane earnestly.

Falling on ears abundantly deaf, refusing to linger in
absurdity. Retreating headlong into the soothing
premise found in the certainty of the unknown.

A stage crafted solely to depict the harmonious
performance, of two very well rehearsed puppets.
Each player reciting their parts of the well worn
script consummately.

Wagering none of the sentiment
proves the safer bet.

50 Word Thursday #13

This is my attempt at 50 Word Thursday #13

The rules are simple. Minimum 50 words, max 250, in multiples of 50.

Using the pic (featured image) or the following phrase or both.

“Holly found it quite impossible to suppress his permanent smirk. ”

I changed it up this week, using only the pic.

Thanks Deb Whittam


Her thoughts drift to a time, a warm, sunny spring afternoon, in this cove, when the future held lots of magic. A young couple, their only care was the next whim.

She surrendered her heart, so easily then.

He looks down at her knowingly, still reading her thoughts after many years of marriage.

She knows that she will always find this spot special. Here now, she wants to feel that love .

The boat has changed, but the magic lingers. Her heart racing, just as it did then. His hands wrap around her waist, and she knows she will surrender…again.


Longing in Reality

He catches a glimpse of it often. Though it never manifests straight on. Only revealing itself, in his peripheral.

The sight is enough to chill his soul. He accepts that it serves to torment him. To render his punishment for the failings inherent with mortality.

Disturbing his slumber, bringing terror to the cold darkness of isolation. Serving as a reminder of what he can no longer know.

A vision of what might have been, had her love remained. His shattered mind though, fully seeing the truth and longing in reality.

Elusive Bird

Ron Lanham Writing

Gracefully she appears to me, like the rarest of delta birds.  Bringing with her a gentle song and a calming spirit. Delighting in the charms of such a beautifully made and elusive presence, I am lost in wondrous observation.

She offers me a glimpse into her world.  Allowing me to witness from afar, the rituals and interpretations that make her whole. With a sophistication and confidence, I covet, my deepest desires are manifest.

For but a fleeting moment, does she grant me audience.  I do not hold her interest, while she charms my heart. Though I beg her stay, as quickly as she arrives, my captivating delta bird takes flight. Leaving me in prayer, that soon she will arrive once again to captivate my soul.

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