creative writing

At My Fingertips

Her hands tremble as she traces the spiralling ridges of my fingertips with her delicate fingers. I try to catch her eye but she is avoidant. I pull my hand away and she stares into the space where my palm had been.

“What is it?” I ask, hesitantly.

She gathers herself together, wiping her hands on her robes. She clears her throat, but continues to avoid my gaze.

It then became imminently clear that my palms did not narrate tales of good fortune. No, that look was unequivocal. Only tragedy; a succession of disappointing events lay ahead, steeped in loss, fear, and grief.

It was too late to consider whether there is any truth hidden behind the creases on your hands. Continuing to walk the same paths with the same attitude became a risk. It was from this day that I carried gratitude with me wherever I went.

Gratitude reminds me that beneath the pressure of life lives a dormant element of peace. She had failed to find resilience at my fingertips.

An old post, rejigged for MindLoveMisery’s Fortune Teller Prompt found here

creative writing

Sandy Footprints

We arrived on the island together,
Your hand in mine,
You gestured towards the palm trees,
Along the shoreline.

I ran off ahead,
The widest smile spread from cheek to cheek.
I threw my head back with laughter,
As I began to sneak.

You still hear the crack of twigs.
Suddenly, I freeze.
I hide among the branches,
Behind the trunks of the trees,

I wait a few seconds,
You’re not in my sight, 
As I peak between the leaves,
I begin to feel fright.

I run to the beach,
Trace the footprints in the sand.
I see four enter the forest,
But two return across the land.

I don’t know what to think,
I just feel so naive.
Did you take me on that journey,
Always with intent to leave?

I make my own way back,
Frustrated and alone.
I had let myself fall,
But now I think I should have known.

creative writing

Lonely Hearts Ad

I have the wisdom of a grandma,
But the passion of a teen.
A child’s zest for life.
Read on if you’re keen.

So what’s your best feature?
Your crystal blue eyes?
Your mesmerising smile?
Will you give me butterflies?

Will you fix the damage,
From my last relationship?
Can you stay by my side?
Will we be joined at the hip?

Will you remind me of my ex,
And all those things I miss?

Maybe this is a bad idea…
All I long for is his kiss.

creative writing

Lipstick Grin

When your eyes meet mine, I wonder what you see. What is it you’re looking at? Do you see my prominent flaws? If not, what do you think?

My eyes gaze around the room, wondering whether anyone is looking at me. I am not conceited… Am I?

All I can see in my reflection is every imperfection, even through the layers of foundation. I smear some new crimson lipstick across my lips, and pout. I love the colour. For a split second. Meanwhile, my lips retreat back into a thin smile… which then fades.

Even when I can’t think of a reason to feel pretty, I anxiously hope that you can see beauty in me. I seek validation, but what does that say about me?