
Hidden in a field
guilt-rusted truck and bloody
mass murder weapon.

Today’s writing prompts at The Haunted Wordsmith are the words, Memory, best, “go with you” and the image below.
I tried to prepare myself for this day. I knew it was going to happen and I knew it would hurt like hell. There’s no way I was anywhere near ready to lose you.
You?
You, of all people.
You knew I couldn’t do without you. What were you thinking, leave me all alone on this mudball? What was God thinking? How can this be?
It’s a big, fat, fucking mistake that can’t be undone! Oh, God I can’t believe how much this hurts. I’m not ready to say goodbye to you, not ready to let you go.
I’ll never be ready to let you go.
I want to go with you! Would you mind? I’ll stay out of the way and swear to God I won’t bug you. It’ll be just like here, only it’ll be there.
But what if it doesn’t work that way? What if I can’t find you over there? Or what if it’s a whole different set-up than what we imagine and we don’t even remember anyone from here?
Or what if people who commit suicide are not allowed to see their loved ones? That would just effing figure.
All I want to do is wake up from this nightmare. Please let me wake up, God, wake me up!
But I can’t. It’s real and you’re gone.
Thank God for memories. At least I have those. They’re all I got and I’m keeping them! Now I have to make sure I don’t forget any of them. Ever. Because then I won’t have anything. It would be like nothing ever happened. Like you never happened. We never happened.
I hate this. I hate death and it’s everywhere.
I will miss you.
You’re taking the best part of my heart with you. That’s closer to what I mean.
When you see my mom & everybody, tell them I said hi, okay? And that I hope to see you all real soon.
Visit me in my dreams when you get settled, okay? I’ll be watching for you.
Damn, I’m gonna miss you.
Please don’t go.


It’s Promote Yourself Monday at the Go Dog Go Café!
Other women get flowers from their lovers.
You bring me
ice packs for my
swollen, ugly face.
I tell them I
fell down the stairs.
But there are no stairs leading anywhere
except
to the Abyss where
love used to live.
You said you wouldn’t
hurt me again.
Other women would leave;
I bought a gun.

I
cannot
imagine
my life without
you in it, at least
in some capacity.
While I am not a woman
who shares her man willingly, for
you I make the exception. For you,
my lover. My heart. My anomaly.
But what if the tables were to turn?
Would you be so understanding?
Would not the thought of me with
another man, lying
naked in his bed
drive you mad with
jealousy?
Well, would
it?


The moment he admits
he didn’t mean it and
has no clue how it slipped out.
He does not, in fact, love you and
deeply regrets wrenching your heart
until it broke.
