It’s difficult to breathe some days
when all you see are walls going up
isolating you from everything you hold dear –
freedom, the truth…
there’s nothing left to hold the lies back
but the will to keep on fighting
even as the walls start closing in
till you’re left with nothing but flimsy hope
just before your world grows dim
what’s the world coming to?
what’s happening to everything we worked for?
every freedom we thought we had, eroded
right after precious right,
can we truly take any more?
when the few are blinded by greed
and power and scorn
the walls are rising, closing in…
and, in fear, the world is reborn
I’m in a holding cell of emotions
stripped raw and confused
not knowing what is good for me
while I sit here, soul abused
by needs unmet, though I know not
what they are –
by unanswered screams that deeply cut
leaving nothing but pain and scars
When my 7-year-old son asked his father today
what the Museum of Tolerance was,
“It’s a scary place, son. And creepy, too,”
he replied with barely a second’s pause.
“You’ve never even been there,” I told him,
“You have no idea what you’re saying.
For even though history may at times be scary and creepy,
there are events in the world we can’t bear repeating.”
“He needs to know what happened,
we can’t allow the guilty wipe the slate clean.
He needs to know everything he can about tolerance,
its meaning, its virtues, and the world that could have been
if only people stopped being hateful,
ignorant, and full of prejudice,
for our son needs to know that now,
before someone else tells him for us.
For history is now being rewritten,
and we cannot let them wipe the bloodied slate clean
We need to remember and never forget
all the things that happened, every ounce of hatred felt and seen.
“Let’s look at the ocean, mom,”
my little one says
as he takes a seat on the pavement
and looks up ahead
where I see more than just the ocean
but the harbor I call home,
“It’s beautiful, mom. Isn’t it?”
And I smile and say, “yes, my love,”
my dear heart now all grown.
She’s in a loveless marriage
she knew it from the start
but she needed the security and so
she traded away her heart
till the end of her days,
she’ll live the lie
until her soul awakes and kisses
her “perfect” life goodbye.
It started out with a song, one that planted a seed inside me,
asking the same old question, “Are you really happy?”
Then, “what if you aren’t, what then will you do?
Will you get up and leave all this behind? Will you? Should you?”
And so the seed grew, and kept growing until the day came
when the answers found their questions. And this time, there was no shame,
from the first word on the page to the last, from the wine, and the gun – but not her past,
I was her and she was me; guess all this was meant to be
all because of a song,
one that woke me up to what was wrong
I need a different kind of love, it’s true
I need to fall in love with me again, not you.
via Discover Challenge: Song
I actually attribute Different Kind of Love by Brendan James as the inspiration for my latest novel, Everything She Ever Wanted, for which he gave me permission to use the lyrics in my book, but it’s actually this one: Nothing For Granted, that started the ball rolling. The lyrics are just absolutely life-changing.
As Liz Durano, I write contemporary romance and women’s fiction and my latest book, Everything She Ever Wanted (A Different Kind of Love Novel) is now available from Amazon, iBooks, Barnes & Noble, and Kobo.
This is a short story that’s currently going up on Wattpad tomorrow and thought I’d share it with you. It’s one of those stories that has been percolating in my head for years, looking for a way to come out. When you end up getting known for romantic fiction, it’s kinda strange to toss out a dark fiction piece and expect your romance readers to shift gears. But this being my blog for all things story and poetry, I hope you’ll enjoy it as much as I enjoyed writing it.
The story starts on Page 2. You can download the ebook here if you prefer reading it on your e-reader. The ebook version also has two additional short stories.
I know it’s not my usual poetry but this is a sort of a reblog of the final cover for my upcoming novel, Everything She Ever Wanted (A Different Kind of Love Novel) from my new author website, and I hope you’ll check it out. It only took four tries to get the perfect cover but I think he’s perfect, don’t you think?
Everything She Ever Wanted
(A Different Kind of Love Novel)
Author: Liz Durano
Genre: Contemporary Romance
Release Date: October 18
Cover Model: Franggy Yanez
I was never into fairy tales.
But discovering a real live princess in my house reminds me of the story of the three bears and some chick who breaks into their pad, eats all their food, and sleeps in their beds.
Just like the one that’s in mine right now.
At first, I thought she was dead, but the rise and fall of her chest told me that she was just passed out, probably from the half-empty bottle of Bordeaux I’d been saving for a special occasion. Two grand down the drain, courtesy of Goldi-effing-locks here, who’s not only passed out cold, but she’s also naked.
I should walk out right now and let her be…
But I can’t. Not when there’s something else next to the Bordeaux, something that shouldn’t be there. And it’s sitting on top of a note that begins with the words…
“I’m sorry I failed you…”
they say she’s cold,
too lost in her past
one that’s filled with darkness
one that’s meant to last
forever if she lets it
letting it eat her from the inside
like the fires of passion burning
leaving her no place to hide
and so she writes out the demons
teasing them with flowery words
letting her fiery passions rage
in an eternal purge
via Daily Prompt: Passionate