the ugly writers

Cedars’ Box

By the time the sun rose to its zenith, the nation had filled the box with all its tears, dreams, fears, and hurts. Then it smoothed its outer veneer with forgiveness' sandpaper removing differences' rough edges and grudges' sharp edges.
the ugly writers

In times of confusion, there’s a feather

The truth is, I lost the feather that I left behind and I can’t seem to forget about it. I know I should fly but why can’t I move, and I can’t stop thinking about it. It is long gone and I’m already gone so why do I still harp on it. Oh, maybe it’s because I can’t stop the course of actions that follow from it.
the ugly writers

Crimson

There was none on the other end of the line. And I gave up trying. It seems it's over. And I just kept crying. Her pulse grew weaker, her breathing more shallow. Her face, whiter, and her whole body colder. Is this how cold she must have felt?
the ugly writers

Noticer

It is true. I am a noticer. The one that notices more than I sometimes care to admit. I notice when a smile doesn't quite reach someone's eyes. I notice when a smile is shared only because one was offered. I notice when someone lets go first when I hug them.
the ugly writers

Half-Full

Someday, you will feel that it's right. It's finally right. You will find peace, happiness, and contentment. You will stop looking for that one thing that you've been looking for because it doesn't need to be found, it is you.
the ugly writers

Half-Empty

I may look like someone who already lived a whole life. I may look like someone who knows everything because I can tell you those things, but it's because I also use those words to be motivated every day.
the ugly writers

Don’t let anyone dull your sparkle

And in just one snap, everything has changed. The guy stops checking on her and there she found out that the guy is seeing another girl without letting her know what happened to him and between them. He just left her hanging, thinking and longing for his presence.
the ugly writers

Not Here

Went back inside and checked the table. Milk glass perspiring, grease setting on the plate bed. I frown. Checked the bath, dry, only the warm sunlight basking in. Ran up and down the hallway. What's wrong?