http://slow.writerscafe.org/Umbramaster The original writings of author Ryan en-us Copyright 2026 WritersCafe.org 1776038620 WritersCafe.org RSS Generator 15 Forever ashamed of myself:Wants, dreams, desires,laid to waste for the certainty of love and likability. ButHow can I be loved if all I do is give, devote myself to another?How can I love if I neglect my own needs?Tonight I break tradition.Tonight I stand on the bar and drunkenly sing kara.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/1371105/ Silence is broken,and not as expected.In my dreams, kisses were shared, confetti showered down.In reality, a three digit number was shared. No thanks were uttered.In a perfect world, those who wrong would not be happy.They would grieve with those they torment, and suffer from guilt.I grieve knowing .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/1247124/ For this summer, I'll travel to new places, explore deserts, rivers, and mountains.I'll let the wind be my guide, floating like a dandelion on waves of air.I'll broaden my horizons, and know that when I return home,I'll have his arms to return to.For this introduction, I'll be someone I've never bee.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/1240110/ Give me a reason to be upset.Give me a struggle. This daily,you and me, me and myself,grind is too familiar, too difficult.Let me know you care,send me small messages like winks,vibrations on yarn, amplified through styrofoam cups.Anything to know that I still matter, still fit somewhere into this m.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/1229960/ I love the days where the sky is clouded,when rain and bolts of yellow fall from the clouds,covering my tears and sobs. Days where children laugh at cartoons,men work with power tools, and I do something in between.Spending hours scribbling down the answers to puzzlesin the back of old magazines, tr.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/1220353/ I think I'm finally coming to accept the fact that Courtny isn't the girl for me. When I think about who John is, I think he can deal with her s**t better than I could. I still feel like she deserves better, and that maybe she doesn't realize the difference between who would make a good friend and w.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/1214343/ It's funny how you can care so much about about someone, devote time and energy to being their friend, and to just be an afterthought to them. After knowing someone for a year, you think you would have priority over someone they just met. But they can't seem to find the time to be with you when that.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/1212393/ Faces hidden in corners of photographs otherwise lovely. Words hidden between words: the author's emotions shining through shutters of small-talk.A grey windbreaker with neon green stitching, clashing with your powder-blue corduroys:Your hands swallowed by the sleeves.I could crop the photos and pre.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/1155146/ There’s nothing so sweet as a woman’s touch…At least that’s what I keep telling myself.Like a humble knight in a foreign domain, fighting for hisKing and his Sanity,I simply yearn to return to familiar shires, blue skies,fresh fruit,and a bright-eyed .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/1152934/ I need to get back to real poetry, but I just can't stop thinking about this. I just need to get this off my chest. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/1020292/ What changed in two days? Has anything changed?Did me caring about how you were doing after a simpleroutine surgery really start something?Or have you tightened your snare on my emotions?I know you want to talk, but how often? For what reasons?Is it at all possible that you mig.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/1009954/ It’s curios how a great day can be ruined by one simpletext. It wasn’t even what was said. It was what wasn’t. All the times I wish wecould be together, I still burn for you. I can’t keep from thinking about whatyour lips taste like. But I know you don’t think o.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/1004512/ I clutch my helmet like a teddy bear.Hands are shaking, sweating.My magazines are loaded, my boots are strapped,and the other soldiers are giving me grief for how manytimes I’ve cleaned my gun.Its 0600, but the mission doesn’t start until noon.  I’m thirsty.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/992605/ Hiding our emotions behind breath-less words:Without inflection, I pick my speech carefully.My excitement shows not in the widening of my eyes,not the dimples near my lips,but the number of exclamation marks my thumb pounds into myphone. I want to feel the vibrations your t.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/982894/ "The sidewalks are watching me think about you, sparkled with broken glass." -John K. Samson http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/979132/ I’ve always prided myself on being able to understand peopleand know them very quickly. It seems like every time I meet someone, I canimmediately tell what kind of person they are by their way of speaking, theirbody language, and other indicators. 9 out of 10 times, the more I get to k.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/961679/ Courtny, I’m sorry I ran straight away when your suitemate enteredthe room and said “Hi, Ryan!” All I wanted to do was give you the coloring bookI found for you so you could pass the time while you were sick. I wanted togive you a hug, sternly tell you to feel .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/960579/ KnockThe metallic rap of knuckles echoes through the still Tuesdaynight. I remember the last time I did this: blushing, with a smile on my face,heart threatening to burst from my chest. The way her pupils shrank at thesimple request to shoot a round of pool. “I’m busy with so.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/954709/ Breathing stagnant air. The sun shines through the window like dusk. The blank look on my face as I pour another warm glass of whatever is in this glass bottle. Ancient thoughts echo: What am I not enough of. What part of me is there too much of. All the things I would have.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/949379/ Twelve dollars of Monopoly money and a lonely second act:The empty seat next to me is stillfull of you, but the jokes aren’t as funny when you’re notthere to laugh at them. I should have told you when I hadyou. I should have told you in thosehundred and twel.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/936608/ Remember the time you told me how much you wanted a bike sothat you make it to class on time and go exploring to improve your badsense of direction and feel the wind in your hair?Remember the way your blue eyes lit up when you saw thebrand new blue bike I bought for your birthday so that .. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/931039/ Those portraits of you,framed in fragile memory,fell from my nightstand.That picture-perfect smiletorn by shards of glass.As if to fend off somenightmarish fiend,my arm lashed out.I slept through it all. I tried to tape you back together,but the e.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/782518/ I made a collage ofmy cut-corners.The necklace you stole,sent you straight to jail.Paper-mache keys won’tshift the tumblers.Was a nod of approval worth anight in the slammer?Larcenies and forgeries require a dexterous sinister hand.Handcuffs were desig.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/777552/ title is a work in progress. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/747096/ Be it human error,I could understand it.A forgivable offense,and nothing more.When it comes toinnocent forgettingthe forgotten holds all the blame. I am entirelyunmemorable. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/747079/ Like snow stuck to a tongue,words clutter my mouth,stuttering, choking on ice.My vision fixed on a steep drop toa pebble stone beachand a dismal view of the sea.Decades I’ve been frozen in placeon a pedestal with a plaquein front that reads:“Canis lupu.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/719113/ Intangible words escape her lips.Smooth hands locked In my worn digits.A perfect peck on my cheek,And the warden slams me down over his knee,Breaking my back. Hands run through auburn hair.My hazel eyes locked onto her blueEyes. My arm aroundHer torso,.. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/695603/ When what you most value is taken from you. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/693785/ A field of flowers dies to hide its beauty. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/693784/ A mouthful of glass a day. Not the ideal diet, but the one you chose when you betrayed my trust. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/693783/ The noisiness of the world, and diving deeper to escape. http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/693782/ Inspired by Atreyu's "Demonology and Heartache". http://slow.writerscafe.org/writing/Umbramaster/693781/