AUTHOR'S OTHER TITLES (36) Autumnal Longings (Poetry) Just got a whiff of blackberries and I remembered my place in the woods where I went to think. [104 words] Bananas (Short Stories) A very short short story [180 words] [Animal] Brit Boys (Poetry) As promised Curious! [240 words] Butterfly Love (Poetry) - [90 words] Changing (Poetry) Can't ever decide anything - just jotted down the meanderings of my mind! [120 words] Chorus Of Love (Poetry) My first attempt at a proper old school rhyming poem - one about losing 'the one' [116 words] Destiny (Poetry) Waffly brain fart about how going back is easier than picking yourself up and moving on [153 words] Dreams Of Reality (Novels) Thought I'd give it a try... opening chapter of a plot I've been thinking about for a long time. [659 words] Eternal (Poetry) - [80 words] Four Little Words (Poetry) Out the words tumble - this one is about relationships. [114 words] He Laughs At Me (Poetry) OK being told off for not posting so here's a rubbish poem for you. [86 words] Healing The Pain (Poetry) That feeling of uselessness you get when someone gets bad news. [105 words] Heartbreaker (Poetry) Another attempt at rhyming - bit of a jokey one (makes a change from my terminally depressive ones!) [97 words] How It Feels (Poetry) - [141 words] I Cling To Hope (Poetry) Thank you MK, a little changed but still the sentiment is yours. [77 words] I Haven't Got A Clue! (Poetry) Who does know the answers? [139 words] Italy (Short Stories) this is a piece I've written for my Mum - PLEASE can you provide some feedback? [805 words] Mouse Brain (Poetry) Weird little thing written whilst bored! [238 words] Nidiot (Poetry) - [142 words] Purge - Goodbye (Non-Fiction) - [487 words] [Mind] Raindrops And Memories (Short Stories) - [804 words] Reaching For The Moon (Poetry) Just a little thing I wrote in about ten seconds when a friend bowed down to everything her bloke wanted. [96 words] Scourge Of The Future (Poetry) Inspired by Colin Baker - you can make a poem from anything, even an old lady rant at litter louts! [75 words] Shall I Tell You What I Really Think? (Poetry) Grr angry poem. [94 words] Swan Dive (Novels) A little attempt at the opening chapter of a comedy (loosely) based around me [418 words] Swan Dive - Chapter 2 (Novels) Part two of my pants comedy novel. [1,553 words] Swan Dive - Chapter 3 (Novels) Part 3 of my stupid novel - I will put it into the first person - when I can be bothered! [732 words] Tears And Beauty (Poetry) Sad that people are so concerned with looks. [126 words] The Final Battle (Short Stories) Read it and you'll see! Any comments on anything I do are hugely appreciated - even if it's just to tell me to give up! [348 words] The Mythical Creature (Poetry) Bit cheeky! [94 words] Tiny Dreams (Poetry) As with the rest.. five minutes of brain splurge! - please please review some of my stuff - even if you think it's utter bobbins! - just amended it to have less 'she's' in it, thanks KM for the advise... [150 words] Verbosity (Poetry) Got bored and fancied writing a silly poem for a giggle! [53 words] Waiting In Limbo (Poetry) For my mum. [89 words] Where You Live (Poetry) Blah blah fed up of work! [151 words] Who Knows What Tomorrow Will Bring (Poetry) - [68 words] You're My Shoe! (Poetry) How I feel. [83 words]
Sticky Taped Heart Briony Carvalho
The coffee spoon clanked as Beth swirled it round the cup, hot coffee sloshing and running down the side of the cup. Her eyes were fixed on the drops of rain chasing and racing down the café window. The condensation inside making the outside scene misty and unreal. The noise of sizzling bacon, low chatter and wet slick tyres on the sodden road were all fading to nothing to her. More coffee ran in rivers down the side of the cup, wetting the dried coffee marks from her or another anonymous coffee drinker. Shaking her head slightly Beth blinked and put the spoon down on the table. Her lips parted slightly and her eyes adjusted onto a poster advertising room to rent in a bed-sit. Beth wasn’t interested in the poster but was lost inside her head.
She’d seen him this morning and never expected to feel like this. She’d come so far since they broke up that she thought she was beyond it all. Her heart had actually missed a beat, her hands gone clammy and her stomach flipped butterflies. It was like a hormonal teenager’s song. How could he still do this to her? She was with someone else, someone kind, loving, besotted…..he wasn’t him, he wasn’t the man she had felt so close to. She had spent the first winter cuddled up to him, wanting nothing more than to feel the heat of his body next to hers, his hand in hers, his lips kissing the nape of her neck. The first summer, laughing, joking, chasing each other on hot beaches with seaweed. They had spent days and nights together, dreams and fears together, triumphs and tragedies together. How could he confuse her so much with…well, he hadn’t even seen her, had only carried on looking in the shop window.
It was 1997 when she first saw him. No choirs sang, no fireworks went off but she felt like nothing in the world existed but him. That first night they sat in the park talking scribble to the stars. Nothing but the grass and the trees to listen to their souls joining. The years flew by and they became one person. No questions; they just knew, no fights they existed in a symmetry that could not be matched. Was she romanticising the past? No, she scoured her memory and there were no fights, no moody silences, plenty of time for friends and their own lives. They were together through it all. When he wanted space she let him have it, fearing nothing but the slow hand of fate working its divine course. He was having a time when he wanted to be free for a while until he was ready to commit, she wanted the same so they went their own ways, always sharing whatever happened in their lives. She remained friends with him and dreamed of the future.
Snapping back she took a large slug of her cooling coffee. She blinked a few times and, confused and angry at the tears that were gathering in her hot eyes, replaced the cup amongst the escaped coffee. Allowing herself to think about the past.
2002, railway station, one hand rummaging for a wallet and the other one clutching her phone to her ear. Frantically rushing to buy a ticket and chatting to him about life the walls seemed to shrink and people bustled and pushed past her. ‘Would she like to meet him and his girlfriend for a drink?’ His girlfriend? That was her place, her job, her future, her….her…her. The lump in her throat threatened to strangle the words that her mouth seemed to be thinking all on their own. Her legs gathered their own impetus and carried her to the platform.
Tucking a strand of hair behind her ear she picked up the spoon again and stirred the coffee. 2005, coffee house, one hand stirring her coffee, one heart beating despite the sticky tape holding it together. She had been out with people, met people but they never healed her heart. She said the right things; miss you, can’t wait to see you again, you make me so happy, but her hearts voice wasn’t talking then. Fate, ha, fate was something that other people could have, she had become a passenger in life just letting things happen to her with no future, no pattern, no plan. When she’d put her heart back together bits were missing. He must have them somewhere, unaware they were even there, preventing her from being whole. Now she carried on, a shell of a person, a mimic of a woman, repeating worn out words that had lost their meaning, words that had once shone and bristled with life.
A tap on the window and a smiling face below a blue umbrella. A wave, a wave back. Her present, her boyfriend. She scattered a handful of coins onto the table, pasted on a smile and collected the words of a happy woman in her head. Drops of rain scattered onto the floor as the door opened and closed, gently drying to nothing.
READER'S REVIEWS (3) DISCLAIMER: STORYMANIA DOES NOT PROVIDE AND IS NOT RESPONSIBLE FOR REVIEWS. ALL REVIEWS ARE PROVIDED BY NON-ASSOCIATED VISITORS, REGARDLESS OF THE WAY THEY CALL THEMSELVES.
"I love this piece evokotive and moving and almost poetic in style keep it up Briony" -- Joshua, Atlanta, Georgia.
"There seems to be mixed styles here but it works. Not as dramatic as it could be but I guess it's from the heart. Is it auto biographical? Well done though a charming piece" -- JT, London.
"Thanks Joshua and JT, I am not too hot at writing but working on it! Yep well and truly autobiographical. 'The one' got away and I still see his reflection in shop windows and it's him I want when I cry - been 5 years though!" -- Briony.
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