11 minutes past Sunday. The start of a Monday like all others. The peace now disrupted as they stared at each other. Beyond the chaos and the upturned covers Lay a heart now regretting the choices it made.
It isn’t enough to wish away the problems, She sat up, knees hugged, and hummed a dull rhythm As she waited for the ring of panicked adrenaline to surge in her heart. Next time she’d be sure to do it from the start So she wouldn’t lay regretting the choices she’d made.
“It’s too late, it’s too late” she muttered, with a leer As the hope she once had was shaken by fear. If she missed it her future would be on the line. One way or another she’ll have to pay the time. She’s still regretting the choices she’d made.
She again picked up her phone and stared with wide eyes At the words and numbers shining brightly from inside 2000 word essay, due Monday at 6 or face suspension. She tried to forget that all she’d typed was the question. Once again she’s regretting the choices she’d made.
So she jumps up with a purpose Pins back the wild circus of hair atop her head As she scrambles around for some paper and lead With hopes of inspiration, and quick handed motivation. Next time she’d be sure to not leave it this late, So she’s not left regretting the choices she makes.
This was totally a spur of the moment thing. Let me know what you think! 🙂
It was just a bowl. A cloudy glass ornament that spent it’s time taunting her. She didn’t want it. So why couldn’t she throw it away? Why couldn’t she rid herself of the burden and the memories, and just move on? Maybe because it was all she had left of him. He got away that evening. Before she knew it he had flapped out of the bowl and dived into the shallow stream. She dived in, but to no avail. He was gone.
Fish aren’t like dogs or cats, they won’t come searching for their owners. And now, all she had left was a stupid bowl.