The Lone Wolf By Janine Hart

Not every wolf wants to be alone. Not every lone soul likes the solitude that is forced upon them.

Some, some want to be a part of a pack. A desperate but rebuffed plea to not be alone.

The life of darkness isn’t always chosen. Sometimes it is given. A gift unwanted. Rebuked. But inescapable.

We lie alone in the cold and die slowly in the heat. Ignored and forgotten because we don’t fit in.

We are always given the promise of love and acceptance only to be shunned and thrown aside.

We reach and grasp at human normalcy only to wind up turning the lights off again…

And no one notices.

The feigned smiles that haunt our faces. The brief hugs we wished lasted a little longer. The darkness we begin to embrace because the world is clearly telling us that’s where we belong.

That the light is for the ones fairer than you. The ones who shine. The ones who make you dim.

We hide and come out alone in the night. To howl at the moon our cries of loneliness and our want for something. Anything. That is real and stays.

We beg the universe in our shrill broken voices that one day, we won’t be, here.

That one day we won’t have to fake a smile.

That the people who we are around actually want us.

That we, one day, won’t need to be wanted.

Not every lone wolf is happy and not every lone wolf chose the darkness.

Sometimes it is given.

Unforgivingly and unapologetically.

And not every lone wolf survives.

The Blank Page By Janine Hart

The blank page.

The blank page is a terrifying place to be. The fear of your words trapped behind a wall that your soul has created that your mouth can’t or will not break.

The blank page.

The blank page is, or can be a death sentence. A silence or a scream for a savior…

Because a blank page is like slitting the vein across instead of down. The blank page is an open to an end or to a new beginning… Or to another failure. The words that blacken the white could empty you or fill someone else, but they may never take away the void.

The blank page.

The blank page is a chaotic moment in silence. Slow motion movements that never really answer a question. The bright white void mixing the black to make it complete.

The blank page is a warning.

A warning that you have expelled so much into a universe that doesn’t receive. That you are lost…

That you actually, for once, have nothing left to say.

Because… because the blank page lets you know that no one listened to the filled ones. That no one cared to read to the bottom. That this could just be…another blank page to everyone else.

The blank page.

The plague that is the block, no, boulder that sits peacefully in front of you. The reason you crave to be one with concrete. The prayer that you hear those voices again. The fear that the dark has won.

The blank page is a warning. A warning that is seen and heeded, but never defended against.

That blank page is our heart.