little journeys

little journeys here and there
that’s where your spoken words have taken me
secrets long hidden now exposed
thank you for the little truths I didn’t see

that i’ll always be beautiful in your eyes
maybe one day i’ll see it in mine
until then i’ll hear you whisper the words in my ear
till each discovery will ring true in time

complete

do you know what you did to me
when i first met you?

do you have any idea how you saved me
how the sound of your voice pulled me through

from the darkness i was drowning from
your words of unconditional love

were the reminders i needed to hear
of all the things i’m deserving of

like life’s little joys
just when i was at my worst

hearing only the awful things i told myself
words so unrelenting… unrehearsed

but somehow you undid all that
even if i had to listen to you on repeat

that even after the day you’d leave
i knew i was already complete.

hand on heart

i could have sworn i heard your voice today
and for a moment, i thought you came back
but it was all wishful thinking
looks like i still have a lot to unpack

for no one ever said breakups are easy
they leave broken hearts in their wake
even letting go is overrated
there’s still no balm to this ache

so i find myself still missing you
late into the night when i should be asleep
thinking of you and where you are now
wishing i never let you in so deep

It’ll Have To Be…Me

Your blog is about to be recorded into an audiobook. If you could choose anyone — from your grandma to Samuel L. Jackson — to narrate your posts, who would it be?

I can’t pick my grandmother to narrate this blog because she’s dead –
dead now for quite a few years
and even if she were alive, she’d kill me because
I’ve kinda incriminated her in a few blog posts.
And if there’s anything you do not do with my grandmother,
it’s to incriminate her –
for anything.
And I can’t really pick Samuel L. Jackson either because, well –
he’s Samuel L. Jackson,
and I doubt he could do the whining that I normally do on this blog
as well as I can.
So it might as well be me –
for no one does MorrighansMuse as well as, well –
MorrighansMuse.
And that’s me.
So you’ll just have to make do with me then,
won’t you?

 

Daily Prompt

Open Mic

What do you find more unbearable: watching a video of yourself, or listening to a recording of your voice? Why?

openmic

I’ve got a face for radio, that’s what someone once said to me once, and it’s stuck ever since.  For how can you forget something like that?   My friends talked me into applying for Cathay Pacific one time, only because they were, and I was going with them to the first interview – which wasn’t really an interview because they were looking for girls (we were all 17 then) who were either tall and beautiful (a plus if you were both) – of which I was neither.  So while they made it to the second round, where this time you actually got to talk to someone, I was dismissed with just a glance from head to foot for I had neither the height they required, nor the beauty they wanted to walk the aisles of their planes.

But what I did have, and still do to an extent, is my voice.  I’m not a singer, and I can’t hold a tune.  But I have a voice that can give you the news, tell you a story, or just narrate something.  I first realized I had a voice someone actually wanted to hear when the local hip radio station hired me to do the news for them.  Sometimes I did commercials, which paid more.

These days, my voice is limited to family, my clients and my students.  Most of all, to my little boy.  I love it when he tells me, read me this book, mama. And I tell him stories about Thomas the tank engine, and his friends, or of Sam I am and how he doesn’t green eggs and ham.  Or just go chika chika boom boom just because it sounds so funny.

Sometimes I wonder if he thinks me beautiful, but really I know it doesn’t matter.  I’d like him to remember my voice and about how my voice can tell show him just how much I love him, cherish him, wish I could be with him forever and watch over him.  My looks are fading, and so is my voice, growing lower with each passing year.  But till the end of my days, as long as I’m able, I’ll always be there to tell him the stories he wants to hear – even of a creature named Sam, and about how he doesn’t like green eggs and ham.

Daily Prompt