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Apologies

10/18/2019

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So sorry about your lies.

Those ungrateful hidden truths

that burn you.

So sorry you have to hide

just to feel loved.

That must really suck.

To be so close to someone,

only to have it blow up.
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Moving On

10/15/2019

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​“We just do our thing, and if the kids go along, then great.”

                “And if they don’t?”

“Two incomes and one house sure would be easier.”

                “It would. Would you like that?”

“That’s the plan.”

                “What plan?”

“Did I ever tell you that I was in a movie?”

                “Yeah, back to this plan…”

You kiss me.
You kiss me again.
You run your fingers through my hair.


“I’m in love with you.”

                “That’s a good thing. I’m in love with you, too.”

I kiss you.
We stare into each other’s eyes.
Everything melts away.

                “You know. You should know.”

“Know what?”

                “She adores you. She adores yours.”

“Ah, yes. Well, most kids do.”

                “No. You need to know this. It’s important."

“It is. I need that. I need that love. I need your kids to love me.”


You needed it for a reason.
You needed it for a season.
Now that season has come to pass.
The leaves have left their branches.
You’ve moved on.
All I hear are crickets.
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Mirage

10/14/2019

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A grifter of affection.
Sweet, facade infection.
Dilerious intention.
A stain on the family name.


A user of people.
Church AND steeple.
Collector at the pew.
Twisted pulpit stew.


A black box of messages.
Unlock the vestiges.
Shun the answers in light.


Redirection is his course,
veiled uncertainty his horse.
His mask a white knight
Questions asked -
his kryptonite.


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Manos Rojos

10/13/2019

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I caught you.

Not coming home, you lied.

Why?

We're all adults here.

Grown ups.

A full century between us.

"I need to back away" you said.

"To figure myself out" you said.

Dude.

At fifty-two, what's left to figure out?

She's left her husband.

You stayed the night.

That sums things up, right?

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Soul Sick

10/11/2019

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There was a sickness in that man.
Not the kind any doctor or pills could fix.
Oh no.
This was the kind of sickness affixed
to his soul.
Like a devil’s hound digging up bones,
it would show itself briefly,
between the shadows.
Between the bellows of a hellfire
lay a quagmire of hopeful paladin clothing,
twisted and moaning,
draped over a frame of mind
he could not contain. 
He longed for a wash,
a full-gutted cleaning
to escape the reaping
his sickness seemed to rain.
Running through the crow fields;
searching for a mother to bring
his children home,
he became the devil’s hound
digging up bones for another
mother’s babies to choke down.

There was a sickness in that man.


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Fishing

10/8/2019

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Oh, he had her.
Hook, line, and sinker.
She gobbled up his fruitless visions
Like a ravenous wolf...
hungry for the truth.
Starving for something
beautiful and real.
He just wanted to steal.
Stars in her eyes.
Collateral damage on the side.
Little tears streaming.
Broken dreaming.
Recalling chocolates, jokes, and wagon rides.
Manipulated antics meant for someone else.
He was done with the other family
on the shelf.
So, he just walked away.
Have a good day.
She yanked the hook out
and let the blood soak
where it lay.



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    Author

    Molly Roland is a writer by nature, and she enjoys stepping over the invisible lines society loves to draw.

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  • Home
  • Showcase
  • Audrie Bretl Roelf
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