Posted in Artist, Blog, deep thoughts, Freshly pressed, late night, Love, Me, Poem, Poems, Short stories, Uncategorized, Writing

Undo it 

I see it hit the floor you see hit the floor I pick it up. The plastic feeling of it shocks my system like touching a hot pan on the stove. Is this what I think it is? After all the I’m sorry’s and the I promise I’ll change talks. Now this. It’s like a slap in the face with wet hands. I take off running because I want to hurt you I want to run away from this situation. I want to unsee it. 

I hear your reason it seeps through my ears like white noise from a TV. It’s too many times too many reasons and  they never matter. Your quicker on your toes now. The words just fall out now. You stutter less and lie more. I wish I didn’t hear it. 

Yesterday I loved you. I had locked away all the times before and returned my heart to you. I’ve given you the pass to redemption to mend my broken pieces and put them back together only for them to be scattered around like a child throwing a fit. Is this your fit? When you don’t get your way is this how you get back at me? How you control me? How you punish me? And then you just want me to hold my pain inside you don’t want me to speak it. So I go quiet around you because if I open my mouth I’ll spit it out like word vomit. Let the pain flow out like watery bile from inside me and fill up a cup of years of disgust so you can drink it. But I know you won’t drink your the artful dodger of despair and I am your wife. Linked to your chain as it drags me around lifeless ,hopeless , loveless.

C L Cunningham  

art by @heylovas on Instagram  

Posted in Artist, Blog, deep thoughts, Freshly pressed, Love, Me, Music, Picture, Poem, Poems, Short stories, Uncategorized, Writing

The Prince of my earth day

  He loved the beauty of nature and wanted us to respect the animals. Since its Earth Day here is a picture of the man who opened the consciousness in me. I’m forever grateful to the music that changed my life at 8 yrs old. And to the man for enlightening me to the beauty that was in me. We can all be beautiful from the inside shining out. Beautiful souls. (Picture reposted from @newearth.mama on Instagram )
By C L Cunningham 

Posted in Blog, deep thoughts, Freshly pressed, Love, Me, Short stories, Uncategorized, Writing

Love you a little better 

It’s easy to let other people’s perception of you make you feel bad. I’m a stay at home wife and a lot of times I get flack for that. But when I look at what I’ve accomplished in the past yr. I’ve written 53 blog post on two websites. I’ve published my first book and am currently writing a novel. Now I even have my own website up. It’s in the basic stages but it’s up. All while promoting myself. Despite the fact that I’m a schizophrenic. Long story short love you better than anyone else because at the end of the day it’s your life to live. Love n light 💙🌞
C L Cunningham 

Posted in Blog, deep thoughts, Freshly pressed, late night, Love, Me, Poems, Short stories, Uncategorized, Writing

A change

Have you ever just wanted to run away. As I look at the sky changing from orange to blue I think of leaving this life. Not life in general but this life that I made for myself. And I don’t want to change the past I just wonder where I’d be in the future if I just got up right now and disappeared. 

No note no money no destination. Just walked off into the sunshine. The fear of the unknown has a way of keeping us stagnant. Scared to change scared to grow hell even scared to say no to the people you care about. Stifled but aware. Sometimes I just want to run away not knowing if I’d comeback just to see if I’d like a self centered life for a change. 
By C L Cunningham 

Posted in Blog, deep thoughts, Freshly pressed, Love, Me, Picture, Short stories, Uncategorized, Writing

Too busy 

It’s hard to explain your hurt when you are too busy running from it. Never giving it time to heal. Never giving it time to grow or fade for that matter. Just continually pushing it down trying to stand on top of it to bury it. But your pain shouldn’t be a secret or a weakness. Let it start to fester. Let it make you angry. Let the tears roll. Let it make you accountable. And then maybe just maybe you can let go. 
C L Cunningham