Just Always

"Oh honey, it was just today."

Only today, only tomorrow, only yesterday. Only always. Forgive me for being cynical but I'm reaching for something that nobody can understand and for a call that no one will hearken to. I breathe slower and pedal faster, going nowhere, finding you. Always finding you. At every corner, in every book; my story is getting anti-climatic and you are ruining the plot. Mouthing the words but never speaking them; glancing but never looking at me. Touching your finger to my lips but never daring to linger longer, assuming independence. 

"Oh honey, it was just today."

Just today when he glared and thought I was preoccupied. Just today when I was the dramatic one and it meant less than pennies to anyone else. Just always. Just always. Your narcoleptic limbs amaze me; one moment rushing towards me with the force of every gale that ever gushed through the canyon, and the next indifferent and unaware of my brain studying you and willing you to remember. Your words softly land on my shoulder but are never directed to the source, never attain their full interpretation. Narrow your eyes and focus on who I am for one moment. Remember my name, remember my face, but recognize my deformed figure in a crowd. 

"Oh honey, it was just today."

When I'm transformed into an imaginary voice and an imaginary opinion and he likes it. When I somehow know and he somehow knows too. My fears are worth more than my desires and I despise it. I am contemptuous and unforgiving, and I cannot draw the veil from my eyes. Read me and remember, draw nearer and discover a girl who is different but the same.

This has been BBC

Welcome to Science Friday here with BBC News.
Recently, new discoveries have propelled the revealing of a new species capable of things currently forgotten by mankind. The species exhibits intelligence and simple reasoning, along with complex spacial abilities. The species has been found to be emotionally involved in all aspects of its short life, along with passionate endearment towards poetry and Austin and Bronte romance. Currently, all other evidence is unstable and the organism itself is unfortunately invaluable without further conclusive evidence.

This has been BBC news.

tarnished

The sponge runs smoothly over the black, tarnished surface of a spoon.

The silence of the house reinforces the loneliness of a house-cleaner,

a reminder of her selfishness.

The whiteness of the cloth is soon blackened, along with

her worn hands that now look as if she had worked in a coal mine that entire day. 

The forks are the hardest; their sharper-than-average prongs pricking her 

fingers through the thin sponge of the silver cleaner.

It pleases her and gives her satisfaction to watch, as the hopeless black rusty

handle becomes her own reflection. 

As clear as water in a pond on a brisk summer morning,

she stares back at herself, wondering if, maybe,

we all need a little polishing every six months or so.