Scribblings and scrawls of a hopeless romantic soul



Rock Bottom

Rock Bottom

She stopped letting the world fill her in
And found comfort in solitude instead
No more do this and that; you can’t and you must
Just the resounding beat of her heart
Unfurling she finally realized
Where the world has ceased, she has begun
And this rock bottom that she was in
Turned into her very stepping stone

© 2017 Maria. All Rights Reserved.

Artwork by Elliana Esquivel

In response to dVerse’s Poetics: Poems that could save your life hosted by Kim.

Head over here to join the fun:


The Letter

FFfAW 10

The first hint of sunlight peeked through the clouds and pierces through her window curtains. Julie pulled the covers up over her head, rolled over in one direction and then rolled back again— aching for sleep to consume her but failed.

“Wake up, sleepyhead,” whispered a soft voice on her ears before she felt a kiss on her cheeks.

Her heart throbbed with excitement and delight as she forced her eyes to open, finding herself alone in the room. Just an imagination, she thought. She rose from her bed and looked out from the bedroom window, only to find the world just as it is: pedestrians walking by and people speaking loudly over croissant and espresso in sync to a one fine morning.

“You are so unfair,” she sullenly said as she tiptoed back to her bed and dove under the covers. She lay quiet and still for several minutes until the sound of her sobs drifted in the air as she curled to her husband’s last letter. “Why do you have to go first?”

Word Count: 175
Continue reading “The Letter”


In response to Sometimes Stellar Storyteller Six Word Story Challenge.


In tears,
I wished you’re mine.

Flavor of my days

© berlinartparasites (artwork by Jo In Hyuk)

Your soft, gentle kisses on a bright, early morn
The wrap of your arms ‘round my waist when I pulled  you down for a cuddle
The warmth of your breath on my nape sending shivers along my spine
Your stare screaming of sweetness as I look at you in the eye
Your voice with a tang of anger on the night of our fight
The roughness of your touch as you pulled me into our couch
The cold silence between us with nothing but the ceiling and walls
Your stare piercing through my beating heart before you walked out of the door
The flowers and chocolates and teddy bear and the note outside my door
Saying you’re sorry and how you hold me dear; that last night you we’re a fool
The bacon and egg for our morning meal atop the table for two
And a cup of coffee with a heart on it, your way of saying ‘I love you so’
The long stretch of time as I wait for you on our table for two
My restless heart getting edgy as the clock strikes noon
The knock on our door by an officer saying how in a car crash, I lost you
The deafening sound of my anguish as I melt down the cold, hard floor

The recent taste of my every day since the day that I’ve lost you
A brand new flavor to my day by day, in things that I say or do
With you my days were extra—extra bitter, extra sweet, or a mix of both
But now, without you they’re dull, weak, and tasteless; dismal and cruel.

Day 8 in Writing 201: Today is a day of melancholy, loss and, longing. I had this wild imagination that maybe in a parallel world, a version of me had gone through a tough time and lost the love of her life. (I know, cruel!) But anyway, this is her story and this is for her lost love.

Prompt: Flavor
Form: Elegy
Device: Enumeratio

Forlorn Nights


She walked to the door of emptiness
Her spirit is weary and tired
Looking through the side of her windowpane
She reckoned to call it a night
Her home is thousands of miles away
How she misses their kisses and smile
But she carries on and lives day by day
Making each day worth her while
She lives with a pair of zombies
And a neighborhood of varied worlds
A pair—
Who sleeps in her early morn
But wakes by the time she snooze
Breathing with nameless faces
As she watched them come and go
And back at the windowpane, her eyes closed,
When the sun shines in the morrow
She vowed,
She’ll start anew.

I live oceans away from home, amidst the concrete jungle and city lights. But no matter how lively this city may be, I still crave for those peaceful nights back at home. This is the story of my life, oh well, the story of most of my nights. Here’s for Day 7 Writing 201 task. 🙂

Prompt: Neighborhood
Form: Ballad
Device: Assonance



The town has become quiet and dark; and the shadows seemed oddly forbidding. The only thing that illuminates the murky evening was a cruise ship docked by the marina.

A sudden wave of homesickness hit her in a flash—not the kind that makes you gloomy and miserable—but the kind that reminds you of who you once were.

Every night she would crawl into this wharf, doing her best to remember. Remember the footsteps, the words said, and what it sounded like when her dad gets home; back to the age of princesses, when her mom calls her pumpkin as she kiss her under the glowing moon.

She felt a twinge– a strange and baffling twinge that she had never felt before. Now, more than ever, she longed to be transported into that peaceful modest place, to saunter, to take a key from her pocket and open the bedroom door, to sit by the hearth, to wrap her arms around them, and to stay there ad infinitum.

But as to when she will leave this town, she does not know.

She stared at the docked cruise ship, wondering if it’ll take her home.

Home. Where is home?

Word Count: 198

Ever since I started living oceans away from my family, I’ve always had this aching nostalgia whenever I see piers and ships. “There’s no place like home” – so they say; and it’s such a lump in the throat missing the old times.

Here’s for this week’s Sunday Photo Fiction prompt.

Sunday Photo Fiction is a weekly writing challenge hosted by Alastair Forbes where a photo is used as a prompt for a piece of fiction using around 200 words. The piece doesn’t have to center around exactly what the photo is, it can be just used as a basis for a story.

Enjoy more stories here. 🙂

White Plague

FF 1

Shivering in a sudden ague, he paced slowly as he watched the first frosts set their marks on the cheek of the forest trees, atop the gambrel roof, then down the rough pavement.

He loathes winter. A time when the white plague of coldness would make a massacre of all nature’s glory and turn the trees to naked frames, bleach the bony bare cadaver until the snow covered things up, and remind him how he lost the apple of his eyes.

“Eight years, my love. I still remember the day when you looked me in the eye and I’d feel the warmth that flowers must have felt when they bloom through the snow, under the first rays of the sun. Every single day is winter to me—cold and dead. I miss the sunrays. I miss you.”

He left this merry place of people and balloons and hurried to the graveyard. With heart in despair, he plunged into agony as he withered in the cold white snow before her tombstone.

Better late than never! 😛

Here’s for Friday Fictioneers Photo Prompt inspired by Dee Lovering’s photo. Read more stories here.

Where art thou?


When the wind blows my hair on that Friday afternoon
When pairs of lovebirds surrounds me in tables for two
When sweet nothings are exchanged within my earshot
Dear boyfriend, for Pete’s sake, where art thou?


299064_264877023550115_645163011_n (1)

There was a time when the wind, sunbeam, and sky
The long roads and every common sight
To me did seem
Like everything was right.
But in the midst of ruins and shattered shields,
The hour of anguish and crashing down
I ask of you
To stay, still, you left
And as I wake– the wind, the sunbeam, and the sky
The long roads and every common sight
To me now seem
Like nothing’s gone right.
Think of the summer,Christmas, and milk tea treats
Of funny faces and random smiles
In a flash
You came, like a smoke, wanes.

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