M.K. Lee's Blog: Telling Tales, page 66

I’m Not Here

I’m not here to fix you.
Played the mechanic so many times
I recognise a fixer-upper when I see one.
I know the games you play, I know your hand before you’ve even begun.
So I’ll just sit here and let you repine,
Because, I’m not here to fix you.

I’m not here to heal you.

Not your therapist or strategist, or even pragmatist.

Helping you see the best in you, only to have you puff your chest

And leave, because you’ve discovered self-belief, because you deserve the best.

And I’m not It. I kn...

Things I Like: Zoho Writer

Gone are the days when we had to email the documents we were working on together and wait for edits to come back. Thanks to tools like Google Docs, we can now not only view, edit, and comment on a document live all at the same time, but also have a chat bubble going as well. Which is as much a tool for procrastination as one for getting things done with, but hey, one thing at a time.

Even if you work solo, online working saves you a lot of hassle. You don’t need to remember to save anything, ...

Marked

The mark appeared on the inside of his wrist on a Tuesday morning, forming in his bleary-eyed vision as he slowly woke. At first, Adam assumed it was nothing more than yet more evidence of the hazards of being clumsy, dragging himself up to sit to begin the latest game of guess my bruise. But as he blinked his eyes, even rubbed the heels of his hands against them to rid him of sleep, the mark stood out clearer. It was a vague crescent shape with one point thicker than the other, giving him t...

Running

Some people run for charity.
Some people run for clarity.
Some people run for the air in their lungs and the spring in their limbs.
Me, I run because of him.
I run hard and fast in the opposite direction
Telling myself, this is all for his protection and benefit,
Because instinct tells me to spin one-eighty on my heel
And head directly for the one person who made me feel real.
Feel like me.
Yet that way leads to madness,
Truth telling, and ultimately, sadness.
See, hurting those you love should never b...

At Three In The Morning

Raife and Dexter are one of those couples who make lonely people reach for a bucket of ice cream and watch Bridget Jones for the hundredth time. They also just happen to be getting married, in the most perfect of venues, surrounded by their closest family and friends. Life couldn’t be better for them. They have good careers, a beautiful house, and still make heart eyes at each other because they are so ridiculously, sappily in love. Doesn’t it make you sick?

They really do have it all. Ex...

The House

There is a myth about the old house at the end of Martin’s street. The house is dilapidated, with broken boards at its windows, and a front yard that has crept up the crumbling steps for being so overgrown. Even those who have lived longest on the street and in the neighborhood don’t really know much of its history. They don’t recall the names of the previous occupants, or know when the house was built; the shape and style of the property is really nothing more than an eyesore on a street ho...

Everyday Love – Sarah and Matilda

Everyday Love

Nine everyday women living everyday lives, going out into the world and finding love with other women. Because sometimes, love really can be as simple as that.

Signing Out

You were my last hope.
I tried clinging on
But every time I reached out
You were already gone.

I had no right
To pin such a burden on you.
Any sense of obligation
I now undo.

Thank you.
For a time it felt I had a place.
But I never did. I was wrong,
There just wasn’t space.

And I’m sorry
I ever put that on you.
No more, I promise.
It’s done now. I’m through

© M K Lee

Shades Of Me

A short collection of poetry based loosely around the theme of colour.

Everyday Love – Emily and Abigail

Everyday Love

Nine everyday women living everyday lives, going out into the world and finding love with other women. Because sometimes, love really can be as simple as that.

A Bad Day

There are a lot of things Giles can tolerate in this world. The neighbours next door who have no consideration for just how loud their music is when they play it at all hours, which he’d barely be able to hear through the thick walls if they would only close the window. The zebra crossing on his walk to work where Giles becomes invisible to every person driving, who glares at him like he is the entire reason for whatever is going wrong with his day. His colleagues, who have no idea where the...