Trauma"Cady, welcome. I'm Dr. Keene. Come in, come in," the tall, dark haired man gestures politely for me to enter the room. I slip in past him, glancing around as I stand inside awkwardly, hands in my pockets. The walls are painted what was probably supposed to be a calming shade of beige, but only reminded me of a barren desert. Along one wall was what I guessed were his credentials, neatly lined up in simple black picture frames. The other side of the room had bookshelves full of thick textbook like books. I glance at the titles. Dream Analysis, Schizophrenia: Treatments, and others that jump out at me only confirm my worst fears. My parents think I'm crazy. I couldn't really blame them. I think I'm crazy, too. The man walks to the desk in the back of the room and stands behind it, facing me as I shift from foot to foot in front of the door. "Please, come sit down," he said, motioning to a comfortable looking chair on the opposite side of the desk. I slink towards it and sink into the soTrauma4 years ago in Short Stories More Like This
Love or to BelieveI've sought consolation in your need of my hands,Love or to Believe5 years ago in Urban & Spoken Word More Like This
Believing my heart depends on you like the love in your eyes I feel,
Your breath chasing whispers of things I long for,
Or simply something to fill my soul.
I've dreamed of finding you face to face with me after kissing you,
And when you finally saved me,
I wondered if my heart could hold you more than miss you,
Sing of waves of desires that might be or to simply living to believe.
So I held you today as treasuringly as I could,
Sinking your smile to memory,
As I realized...
My heart has already been subscribed to you in order to believe.