I Trust too easy. 

In elementary school I gave away the brownie mom packed for me, if someone asked. 

The kids learned to ask. 

In middle school they called me a pushover. 

This was my first epiphany. 

In college they called me a slut because, I let boys sleep with me. 

If they wanted to, why not?

Now I am a nurse, they pay me for my trust. 

They trust me because

I trust easily. 


The door slams open with a thump, forming a dent in the cream colored wall. Laughter from wine and spirits echo from the doorway to the jacuzzi tub. Torn white frills, loose ties and frizzy hair fill the doorway, and the kempt room is slovenly invaded.

She’s beautiful, when not inebriated. I understood his lust, her skin porcelain smooth, lips cherry red. She was confident, snarky, and full of hate. Male attention was a staple to her diet (which I assume was the only thing she consumed). Dainty, the wedding dress now ate her.

I had met Stephanie in Dr. Peter’s office. A plastic surgeon with a glorious new building – stained glass windows patterned with historically beautiful women, a waiting room with leather recliners, and pretty secretaries appearing behind sliding etched glass.

Dr. Peters was a friend of my father and hired me as a secretary. On my first day I skipped into the office and said hello to a woman with a porcelain doll face, she didn’t reply immediately, then smirked “nice headband.”

I picked up the phone when it rang only to have her rip it out of my hand and slam it down on the receiver.

“I answer the phone. I talk to clients. I AM the looks.” She said. “Am I making myself clear?”

“Sure” I said.

At first patients loved Stephanie, but eventually they came to adore me. I remembered their names, birthdates, allergies, and medications. I read up on procedures and medication reactions (Stephanie rolling her eyes every time I picked up a book). And I perfected an excel program for scheduling.

Dr. Peters noticed my studiousness and let me assist him during a Rhinoplasty. Eventually he sent me to nursing school, and I began working with him in the operating room at the larger hospital across the city.

I met the dreamy Theodore there. A sales rep with a charming smile. I made him laugh. He bought chocolate, and a diamond ring.

One evening Theo and I stopped by Dr. Peter’s office. He commented on how beautiful Stephanie was. “Yeah” I said out loud. “On the outside” I thought to myself.

He invited her over for “family dinner.” She touched his arms, and displayed her cleavage.

She manipulated him, I know she did. He was kind. But she was cunning and spiteful. Months passed and my fiancé grew weary of me. In the office Stephanie made sly comments to me about the size of his dick. I found a red thong on our bedroom floor.

He felt trapped. He told me he was in love. I cried and cried, and fell into a deep depression. I told him I wanted everything to just go away. To end it all.

Theo didn’t want to look like a bad guy by rejecting me. One day he made my morning tea, which was out of character. I grew weary and went down for a nap. I never woke up.

Until today.

I appeared in a honeymoon suite. “Just Married” was spelled in rose petals and a bottle of champagne had “Theodore & Stephanie January 1st 2016” printed on it. 2016???! This morning when I had my tea it was March 1st, 2015. I turned and looked in the mirror. My lack of reflection revealed the truth.

Fuck! That mother fucker killed me! He took me seriously when I said I wanted it all to go away. Thought it was the easy way out, put me out of my misery, and become the grieving fiancé, everybody wins.

I watch helplessly as Theo and Stephanie enter the room. He throws her down on the bed, ripping her wedding dress. I’m invisible to them, always have been, literally now. Pulling him in by his collar she demands “Eat my pussy!” He laughs and obliges, then unzips his pants.

Oh hell no.

I climb on top of Stephanie, and my spirit sinks into her body, I consume her actions. Finally in control of her. I use her spindly legged slutty stilettos to kick him in the stomach. She struggles to regain will. Theo looks at her puzzled, holding his stomach, then laughs and rips her stilettos off and climbs on top of her. Inebriated she goes along with it. Always the puppet. The pretty doll.

I leave Stephanie’s body sink and sink into Theo’s. I feel his strength, his lust. I move his body to her head and make him say “part your lips.” I am the ventriloquist. She follows his orders, my orders. I thrust his dick into her mouth and plug her nose with his right hand, at first he doesn’t resist my control, until I won’t let him stop. He struggles to break free from my spirit’s control, but I am the vengeful marionettist.

Stephanie thrashes, her face turns blue and right before her doll’s eyes roll back in her head I make him say:

“Ann says hi.”



I published this originally today for a poetry challenge at Please click the hyperlink as the challenge also takes into account the number of views.

I Wore White

I wore white.
Impressive interview. 
As usual. 

I make them laugh and laugh. 

My patient told me, “you are great at what you do.”
A patient.
Drugs and rope, his ticket in. 
Two hundred and fifty pounds lost to a shower rod.

The nurses laugh.
Can’t cope.

Weak and stupid, 
Can’t kill himself right.

Not his first time
In hospital restraints.

I didn’t say,

I ate my pills for breakfast and
hid my demon today.

I didn’t say, 

I’m glad my dad failed,
in the garage.

I didn’t say, 

He’s too smart to 
Kill himself right.

Code blue came to us,
Most experienced, 
I led the team. 

I didn’t say,
I once had a ticket. 

I wore white. 


Based on a True Story 

Hahhhhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.

Hahhhhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.

“I never like the guy, not one bit”

“I know Britt, but she doesn’t need to hear that right now, not at a time like this”
Hahhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.
Hahhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhht.

“Dinah??? Dinahhhh??? Can you hear me??? It’s Britt!…. DINAH!”
Hahhhhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.

Hahhhhhhhhhh, Pppphhhhhhht.

Britt reaches to poke her sharp neon nail into Dinah’s shoulder, but her sister grabs her arm and pulls her back to her chair.

“Britt.. Just let her be. She needs to rest. I’m going to go grab the photos of Wishbone and Fifi that I left in the car, at least if she opens her eyes she’ll have them by her side. Just like always. Be back soon”
Hahhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.

Haahhhhhhh, Pppphhhhhhht.

As Britt gazes at Dinah her eyes fill with tears. She thinks of the anomosity between them since Dinah married Chuck. An alcoholic with a mean streak. He always reeked of cigarettes and unwashed clothes, and was constantly abusive to Dinah’s dogs. 

Sighing, she reaches up and strokes Dinah’s brunette hair, now streaked with wirey grey. 
Hahhhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.

Hahhhhhhhhh, Pppphhhhhhht.

As kids they had always been close. The distance was hard on her. But she couldn’t stand being around Chuck, and seeing the way Chuck treated Dinah!!

Her clenched fist relaxes when she sees Dinah’s forehead slightly furrow. 
Hahhhhhhhhhh, Phhht. Phhht. 

Britt jumps back startled. A nurse is at the bedside immediately, she makes an adjustment on the ventilator, and dismisses it with a wave of her hand. 

 Hahhhhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.

The sounds of her sickness back on beat. Dinah’s forehead relaxes again. 

“Brittany, Dinah has another visitor in the waiting room.” The young nurse asks.” Is it ok if I let him back?” 

She scowls. “Actually, I’ll step out first… I assume it’s Chuck..” She gives the nurse a knowing glance. Getting up she starts to leave but glances back “Just uh, keep a close eye on him when he’s in here okay?” 

“No problem dear.”
Hahhhhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.
 Hahhhhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.

When her patient’s husband steps in, his nurse enters the room as well, and pretends to be checking on her IV fluids. She holds her breath to prevent herself from gagging at the smell of filth and smoke. Giving Chuck a half smile she tells him, “I’ll be outside the room if you need anything.”

Chuck grunts.

Hahhhhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.

The smell of cigarettes lingers in the hallway. The nurse shuts the curtain almost all the way and leaves the door cracked, she pulls her chair and computer as close as possible without being noticed.
Hahhhhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.

Hahhhhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.

Chuck stands over Dinah. Dinah remains comatose. 

“I finally did it.” He tells her. “Everything I said I’d do. Your stupid crystal animal collection. Gone. Smashed them all.” He croaks and a dirty smirk comes across his face. He leans in closer to whisper in her ear. Stacy inches closer in her chair “And those dogs of yours, I killed them too.” 

Hahhhhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.

Hahhhhhhhhhh, Ppphhhhhhhht.

– LRose
(This is based on a true overhead conversation)

In The Summer At Normandy

In the summer, we went to Normandy.
The sea glinted,
Dogs frolicked off leash,
children played in the sand.

In the summer at Normandy,
Technology is left behind
in favor of the timeless
sounds of children laughing.

In the summer at Normandy
People bathe in the sea,
as shallow tides reveal
partially sunken tanks.

In the summer at Normandy.
We rest by a concrete German bunker,
next to rusty barbed wire,
and watch children play.

In the summer at Normandy,
We look through the slot,
crouching in dirt
imagined thousands of soldiers shot.

In the summer at Normandy.
I think of Grandfather’s stories,
of D-Day horrors, the deaths
of ten thousand men.

The summer we went to Normandy,
I watched a blond boy carry a red kite
toward sparkling sea,
and knew they all died,
so this could be.

Part One

She awoke with a start, her cheek pressed to the cold cement floor. Her mouth was parched, and her frightened heart rate hammered in her skull. Drawing the sheet more tightly around her, she shivered, realizing now, her nudity.
“Finally awake!” A hoarse voice jeered at her. “Good morning princess. Here have some water!”

She rose into a cross legged position, in time to see a bowl fly through the slot in the evil latitudinal bars. Drops flew into the air as the bowl cylindrically crashed then trembled with increasing frequency. 

It’s raining from my eyes. She thought, and memories from the previous day flooded in. 


A ghost lived once

A ghost lived once
inside this house
They say he murdered his kids
And then his spouse.

He fell in love
With someone else
He told his wife 
Their marriage was false. 

She went into the bathroom
And closed the door
She took the kids with her 
She loved no more.

He went to find them,
The doorknob was hot.
He flinched and jumped back
As smoke billowed out.

He pounded on the door
Then kicked it down,
Looking for their bodies
On the tiled ground.

His face sizzled and burned
Before the fire went out
Then he was alone
He cried and shout.

He went to the hospital
For his burned face
They looked at him and whispered
His deformity out of place.

He suffered and grieved
In the old house he cried. 
They made up a rumor 
after he died:

A ghost lived once 
inside this house .
He murdered his kids
And then his spouse.



If I killed myself today,What would people say?
Would they mourn the person they thought I was?

But she was so happy! So outgoing! So sweet!
But she did have a dark side…

I am the dark side, I don’t let you meet.

If they found me ruddy faced, coarse rope around my neck, would they say:

Well I don’t want to remember her this way. I want to remember her like she was yesterday! Her smile, her act.

Would they say: but her life was perfect?

Would they pretend I didn’t die of suicide? Would they use me for pity?
I wish they would say: she suffered, she was in pain. Her death was not in vain.

She is now dead as nothing else. More dead than air.

I wish they would they say: why didn’t we care more, love more, talk more, be more?

Because we aren’t more. This is what we are.

After I’ve died, don’t tell me what you would’ve done.



In her youth she learned that there was black and white, good and bad, ugly and beautiful, young and old. America doesn’t have inbetweens, they have categories. So when he told her she would be beautiful if she got a nose job, she knew that meant she was ugly.  

It was only later in life, when she learned to obliterate the categories, that she became both sane and insane, wonderful and terrible, beautiful and ugly. 

Poetry Prompt

Anyone want to participate in my poetry prompt?

The set up is 3 stanzas

Each stanza is:
2 syllables
4 syllables
2 syllables

the rhyme scheme for the poem is:

I’ve written two. If anyone wants to participate, I’d love to hear what you come up with!

Porcelain face

She crooks
Her lovely head
And looks.

Me, lips parted


Warmth spreads
Between her legs.
Damp threads.

She slides
Petite fingers

And one
Finger comes up