I used to crave the friction

Of toxicity in my life;

Something to lean against

That always pushed back.

My boss once said

Misery loves company and

I have found myself in the company

Of many a miserable man.

But you have come out of the shadows,

Running, and I never knew

I could crave stability

Like I crave your arms.

You are predictable in the most wonderful way.

I can always count on

Your love.

Writing Prompt: A Time You Had to Stay Quiet When You Felt Like Shouting

Row after row of burgundy pew and that crimson carpet like Jesus himself bled out in this church. I am biting back laughter so hard that I am afraid I may actually burst; can a person explode from keeping joy inside? My mother is giving me The Eyes and I know I will in turn receive The Lecture about how this is a sacred place and we come here to worship, not to laugh. The thing is, everyone worships in different ways. I wish I could share this joy with my mother, here in this place where love is taken so seriously. I wish our love didn’t have to be a stern obligation. And I wish I could burst out laughing, because I am happy, so happy today, but instead I am physically hurting myself by preventing my muscles from contracting into a laugh. And I get a quick head nod from my mother, as if this sacrifice provides redemption for my actions. As if laughing in church would be the reason I would end up in hell and not a warped sense of what love is.