pretending: a limerick.

shadow heart.

I don’t know the beginning but I know the ending
You pull me in close then push me away defending
You never surrender your heart
Every time it tears us apart
Yet I land back in your arms pretending

swash.

Written for Mind and Life Matters limerick poetry challenge – prompt: antonyms
© what sandra thinks
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found.

hands

I never thought
I would find you
Maybe you found me
I never need to know
Which way is real
I only need to know
That it happened

The night we met
Those eyes of yours
They smiled at me
With just a look
You made me blush
Your hand held mine
My heart swelled

You shared your story
And listened to mine
We laughed together
All our loneliness and
Every drop of sadness
Melted away

We wanted to stay
Until the sun appeared
Or possibly forever
But the world interfered

I hated to go
Endings bring my tears
But I promise you
Someday I will
Kiss your forbidden lips

swash.

[I wrote this poem from the mind of a character I created… to a man she couldn’t have.]
© what sandra thinks
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foggy.

fog

This damn cold is killing me. [Not literally, of course.] I was ready to go to sleep at 8pm last night. Before my kids. My usual bedtime is around 2am.

I’ve been working on ‘secret admirer‘ but this illness is fogging my brain. I’ve been writing like mad but I’m not entirely sure what I’m writing… and I’m sure I’m going to be useless at proofing and editing.

As much as I hate to do this… I’m not going to be able to post the next installment until my brain works again. I really hope that happens soon because this cold totally blows.

So sorry. I hope to still post the next part sometime this weekend, but that depends on this  virus from hell.

 

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damn you, disney.

[Possible spoiler alert needed here… but these movies have been out for a looong time… so…]

disney castle tangled.

I shed a ridiculous amount of tears at the end of Inside Out. They were falling from my eyes so fast I couldn’t stop them before they dripped down my face over my neck down between my upper lady parts until they were stopped by my bra. When the theater lights came up, I noticed everyone else was crying, too. My kids, my husband… and pretty much every other person in that theater. I think it was particular gut-wrenching for parents. But yeah, the kids cried, too.

I haven’t watched that movie again since… despite the funny parts and the presence of perfectly-casted Lewis Black.

inside out.

dots

Today, my daughter happened to find Big Hero 6 on television. I adore this movie and I’ve seen it many times. Double digits… I’ve lost count. Yet every time, I cry. God, the ending…

“Mom… are you crying?”

“No… my eyes are all watery because of this damn cold…”

Lies…

bh6-bye-1 bh6-bye-2 bh6-end

dots

I have seen Tangled more times than any other movie, Disney or otherwise. And the tears. One would think after so many viewings, I would be over the crying thing… but no. Still gets me… every damn time. [I will now post way too many images from Tangled. Hey, at least I put them in a slideshow…]

This slideshow requires JavaScript.

Even just these stills are killing me.

Maybe I love the devastation followed by the perfection. Maybe I’m just that sappy. Maybe (in the case of Tangled) I’m completely taken in by the perfect man…

dots

[Oh, by the way, I really do watch grown-up movies, too. Occasionally.]

 

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blocked. (haiku)

bad cold

I’m in agony.
How could these germs be so cruel?
This cold is torture.

My head is pounding.
When I sneeze, my eyes water
Every cough is pain.

I wish I could sleep
But I am almost afraid
Since I cannot breathe.

dots

© what sandra thinks
Please… just kill me.

 

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coffee obsession.

drink you under the table.

It started when I was about 5 years old. I took a sip of Dad’s coffee (black). It was a little bitter but I was somehow okay with that. I snuck a sip of Mom’s next (milk and sugar). Oh, better for my 5-year-old palate.

Not long after this, Mom began a routine of taking us (my sisters and me) out on a few errands each week. Most of the time, if her errands brought us near, Mom would stop at this diner-style restaurant that became very special to us. It was our place. [The one we used to visit was one of three, I think, in the area. It’s no longer there. So sad. I didn’t think the place even existed anymore anywhere, but Google says otherwise! I’m thrilled to see there are still several locations not far from Mom’s. I see a little excursion in the near future…]

Sometimes, if it was still early, we’d have french toast. Sometimes, we’d sit at the counter
and have grilled cheese sandwiches. But most of the time, we had ice cream.

In all my visits to this place over the years, ice-cream-cone-jimmiesI’ve had a taste of a few flavors from my family members. But I asked for the same thing every single time I had ice cream there…

Coffee on a sugar cone with chocolate ‘jimmies’.

Ah, yes, this terminology may make it possible for you ascertain where in the U.S. I grew up — a fact I will neither confirm nor deny. [But if you’re coming for me, I’d appreciate a little warning.]

I hear stories from my 11-year-old son about his classmates mentioning their consumption of coffee. Which blows my mind. Jeez… kids these days. [Fuck, I’m old.] At 11, I was still stealing swigs from my Mom’s cup at best. By the end of high school, I’d buy my own coffee. But not too often. Even 17- or 18- year-olds at the time didn’t really ‘grab a coffee’.

Then I went to college. Not a big university… a small-ish college… somewhat prestigious. But I didn’t care about that. I cared about… uh… other stuff. And this is where my coffee obsession truly escalated.
coffee house

In my first year, I was randomly placed [with an awful roommate… God, I hated her…] in the dorm where the campus coffeehouse was located. How cool was that? Pretty damn cool. Not only was I in that deliciously scented place pretty much every day, but I also ‘worked’ there. I use the term loosely as it was a pleasure, not work… and it was an unpaid volunteer gig.

And as I volunteered away any hope of sleeping, live music would be happening in front of me. Coffee and musicians? Like, boys with guitars? Oh, and occasional baking (both kinds)? That whole scene is the closest to heaven I’ve ever been. [Okay, I may have felt close to heaven a few other times… but those are totally different stories…]

And so my obsession continued. I’ve even been to a café called… yes, you guessed it… ‘Coffee Obsession’.

coffee obsession.

And all of this long, drawn out sandra-history was just backstory for two things…

Thing one: I’ve noticed that every time a turn a corner, drive along a big curve, or go over a bumpy bit in the road, I instinctively reach for my cupholder to make sure my coffee doesn’t spill. Even when there is no coffee cup there. Do I have a problem?

Thing two: Today, upon returning home from playing mini-golf with my kids, I walked to the door of my house holding my bag, my keys, and my big fat iced coffee. I tripped on a step and fell. And I broke my fall with a hand… and an elbow… because I had to keep the coffee upright. Do I have a problem?

[By the way, I won at mini-golf… but my son was only 2 strokes behind! That little shit is gonna kick my ass next time!]

[Oh, also, I have a 4-inch long scrape on my leg from the fall… but that is all. I didn’t even bleed. Nor did I spill a single drop of coffee. I must be a fucking superhero. Javagirl? Hot, bitter and dressed in black? That sounds like me.]

Drink up!

 

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