I. Connolly

United States

Reader
Poet(sometimes)
Musician
Hopeless Romantic
Catholic
Always smiling
Still trying to figure out this writing thing

Message from Writer

Any help with my writing would be great because sometimes I have no idea what I'm doing. :)

“Life itself is the most wonderful fairytale”- Hans Christian Anderson(I think)
"Whatever you decide to do, make sure it makes you happy."

Published Work

One moment told in lopsided thoughts

Sickening,
Shivering, 
Everything creeping, crawling down my spine.
Just one word,
One truth,
Clattering through my mind.
It courses through,
Makes my head explode.
Thoughts made impossible.
Realities made untrue.
Paralyze me with something forgotten.
So quick,
So soon.
Why must you leave me?
Question all that we wanted.
Tongue ties in knots.
The lump in my throat expands.
Fake smile drags me along this land mine of loss.
Can’t let any pain you've caused come through.
It’s over and gone.
But you couldn’t stop there, could you?
Stomping and grinding any hope beneath those dark black shining army boots,
That pause vibrates through the spring air.
Pointless apologies hang limply there.
The coerced little crinkle goes through the back of my eyes.
As my heart beats out its swan song,
Its last regret.
A haunted laugh and twinkling smile hide this deepest of secrets.
You’re so clueless.
You’ll never know,
Never know what that moment's truth did to me.


...

Light

Petals falling,
The great beyond is calling,
All that rises must die,
Yet all that loves lives on,
Stars sucking you in,
Tears touching the rim,
Nonsensical light tramples the dark,
Shivers rack your spine,
Beauty beyond beauties,
Hope's not needed,
Happiness is reached,
Just reach out and touch it,
Grasp it gently,
Its unassuming heartbeat can crumble under our crude hands,
Turn it over,
Enjoy its warmth,
Don't let it go,
Hold it close but not too tight,
Keep it always in your sight,
That was what you did in your life,
Kept it always in your sight,
Yet you chased the wrong delight,
You turned away,
Changed it all back,
Saved yourself just in time,
So how is the light this night?

One moment told in lopsided thoughts

Sickening, shivering, everything running down my spine,
Just one word, one truth clattering through my mind,
It courses through, makes my head explode,
Thoughts made impossible,
Realities made untrue,
Paralyze me with something forgotten,
So quick, so soon,
Why must you leave?
Questioning all that we wanted,
Tongue tying in knots,
The lump in my throat expanding,
Fake smile pulling me along,
Joking with you,
Can’t let any pain you caused come through,
It’s over and gone,
But you couldn’t stop there though, could you?
Stomping and grinding any hope beneath those dark black shining army boots,
That pause vibrates through the air,
Pointless apologies hanging there,
The coerced little crinkle going through the back of my eyes,
As my heart beats a tiny death,
A laugh and smile hide this deep secret,
You’re so clueless,
You’ll never know,
Never know what that did to me.



 

A Couch Proposal

A dead plastic fern in the corner, a mint tea spill, and Gordon Ramsay cursing out an incompetent chef; the perfect recipe for an impromptu proposal. She sits there watching the show, eating gluten-free popcorn. She wears a her usual black biker shorts, hating to wear any form of sweats even when relaxing. He has his feet up on the couch, pushing her to the edge with his fuzzy socks. He sketches the overflowing teapot instead of getting up and pouring it due to his extreme laziness. He looks up from his reverie to ask her, in all seriousness, "Who do you think would win in a fight, a toaster or a microwave?" She looks quizzically back at him, obviously thinking. "I mean the toaster can shoot stuff out."
"But the microwave emits radiation."
"But radiation wouldn't affect the toaster." 
"True... And the microwave could spin the toaster around and cause it to explode..."
"So, we're in agreement?"
 Of course we...

Misfits

They’re silence and shouting.
They’re uncertainty and confusion.
They’re unsteadiness and awkwardness.
They’re everything and nothing at all.
They’re the circle peg in the square hole.
They’re every little piece in the puzzle.
They’re the worries she wants to swallow.
They’re the cruel laughs he hears awkwardly.
They’re the sketches she draws when no one hears her voice.
They’re the tears running to catch his girl.
They’re the lunch she won’t let herself eat.
They’re the jitters he has to face.
They’re the hate she loves to give herself.
They’re the horrid jokes he tells.
They’re the misfits.

Can we talk?

“Can we talk?”
”I’ve heard those words before... We don’t need to talk about it. I know how you feel.”
”I’m sorry.”
”Don’t worry about it. I kinda figured it out when we didn’t talk for a month... I’m... I’m over it now.”
”I”m really sorry about that.”
”It’s fine... I mean I didn’t talk either... I guess we were kinda ignoring each other.”
”Yeah well... I guess I wanted to see if we could still be friends... I mean only if you want to.”
”Yeah of course.”
”So how have you been?”
”Pretty good compared to how I was... how about you?”
”Good.” There was a long drawn out silence as they both searched for words.
”Well, I’ve got to go.”
”Oh, ok. Bye.” Line goes dead. Tears stream down her eyes. She was over it... at least mostly over it. She just hated hearing it out loud and having it confirmed. Oh well...

Darling Dearest

Darling dearest
The words echo back to me from way up there
Shatter the bright uninspired mosaics that imprison me
The disjointed melody comes not from you but from me
They sneak in like the haunted cursed words they truly are
The raven comes to make his abode fluttering past the mournful procession
The pallid dull notes pull you away
So far and distant
She steps along with tears overtaking her composed face
You can almost spot the moment that the light, your light, comes into her amber cut eyes
The pools run over
She has to step in line with the pitying looks and condoling smiles
That’s her job, not mine
Yet sobs come out of my weak, convulsed body
Bet you’re not really looking down on me
She’s the one you were closest to
That’s why she spoke for you
She was the one you were sorry to leave
Not us
Not me
I shouldn’t cry but how...

Years pass

366 days ago- it started with a stupid joke and next thing you know you’re being honest and saying it’s me that you like.

365 days ago- I was shuffling through the halls awkwardly as butterflies flew amuck in my stomach at just the thought of seeing you, the boy I liked and who somehow liked me.

364 days ago- we were talking happily as you in a motion went to pull me in with your hand around my shoulder, an endeavor that ended in giggles and blushes all around.

362 days ago- it was freezing outside and I was too stubborn to admit the biting cold so you threw your sweatshirt over me, that warm comforting sweatshirt which I gave back being stubborn though it was my greatest desire just to keep it.

359 days ago- sitting at that table with those insane friends of ours and one dare leading to your one burst of courage as you let...

Pandemic Memoir

No Matter What

Smile through it, no matter what

Can we talk?

"Can we talk?”
"I’ve heard those words before... We don’t need to talk about it. I know how you feel.”
"I’m sorry.”
"Don’t worry about it. I kinda figured it out when we didn’t talk for a month... I’m... I’m over it now.”
"I'm really sorry about that.”
"It’s fine... I mean I didn’t talk either... I guess we were kinda ignoring each other.”
"Yeah well... I guess I wanted to see if we could still be friends... I mean only if you want to.”
"Yeah of course.”
"So how have you been?”
"Pretty good compared to how I was... how about you?”
"Good.” There was a long drawn out silence as they both searched for words.
"Well, I’ve got to go.”
"Oh. Okay... Bye.” Line goes dead. Tears stream down her eyes. She was over it... at least mostly. She just hated hearing it out loud. Oh well... Hearts shatter everyday, don't they?

That Sort of Person

Two People

She's the type of person to blast Charlie Daniels's music while reading the Metamorphosis.

He's the type of person to love the song, A Thousand Years, but absolutely hate romance.

She's the type of person to laugh when there seems nothing else to do.

He's the type of person to change his mind because of her wayward smile.

She's the type of person to say she hates him when she loves him.

He's the type of person to curse anyone who hurts her, even if that means himself.

She's the type of person to be insulted when you call her normal.

He's the type of person to say the same joke over.

She's the type of person to bite her tongue during a fight.

He's the type of person to make a difference without ever realizing it.

She's the type of person to take a breath before leaping out.

He's the type of person to dive right after.

Looking at me

That way your eyes went over me, felt so familiar,
Filling my soul up like that cup of herbal tea I may or may not have threatened to throw at you,
Unspoken words pass through,
Questions are left unanswered but warmth encompasses me,
You have another to hold onto but your arms are the ones I want to fall into,
Maybe it will come true,
Maybe all these thoughts and pangs will come back as some irony,
But they hurt now, 
Cut deep and hollow out my soul,
All my love spilling through,
But all you do is smile,
Staring into my heart,
Clueless about what’s in there,
Maybe all you want to know is what’s going on in my crazy, delusional mind,
But please want more,
Want to know what’s in my heart again,
Please,
Just once more

Summer wanted to stay that day

Honeysuckle eyes pulling me down,
Silence in the air whispering too loud,
Waves off the shore filled with regret,
The weight of the world seems to lean too much to my left,
Sugary sunlight pierces across the cracks,
Blink past the day with popsicle drips racing out of my grasp,
Hope to filter out all those harsh rays,
But can't forget all that sunshine-filled pain,
All those forgotten memories drowning me,
Air inhaled without a third thought,
As that ugly school skirt falls down just a spot,
Summer ran away,
And yet on that day,
It seemed to want to stay
 

That Sort of Person

Two People

She's the type of person to blast Charlie Daniels's music while reading the Metamorphosis.

He's the type of person to love the song, A Thousand Years, but absolutely hate romance.

She's the type of person to laugh when there seems nothing else to do.

He's the type of person to change his mind because her wayward smile.

She's the type of person to say she hates him when she loves him.

He's the type of person to curse anyone who hurts her, even if that means himself.

She's the type of person to be insulted when you call her normal.

He's the type of person to say the same joke over.

She's the type of person to bite her tongue during a fight.

He's the type of person to make a difference without ever realizing.

She's the type of person to take a breath before leaping out.

He's the type of person to dive right after.

What is left?

Your heart doesn't flutter,
You open your eyes,
The rose-colored glasses have slipped away,
You realize all the pain you may have caused,
All that's left to feel is the fractured pieces of what was your heart,
All that you thought you knew has gone,
So how can you tell,
Did you ever feel anything,
Had anything been there,
Is all simply lost,
Are you left in uncertainty,
Wonder if it had all been an illusion,
Could you be fooled so easily,
Everything’s gone away,
Your heart seems to have changed,
So, what is left?

Like a Woman Scorned

He had heard the phrase 'hell hath no fury like a woman scorned' but he had only ever seen it in movies and when his sister got annoyed at him. Then he almost got his eyes clawed out by the girl whose heart he broke, or at least he thought he had broken it. She was always smiling and happy never angry or vicious. She may be bossy but she had never never raged against anyone. That was until he had been stupid enough to agree with a comment about her being like some frivolous ditsy teenage girl. He hadn't said it as an insult but she most certainly took it as one seeing as there was no levity in his voice and he showed all seriousness.
All the anger she had for him and maybe all the love she had ever felt came pouring out. As his words came, she lunged toward him with the stern coldness of rage...

What is left?

when your heart doesn't flutter,
when you open your eyes,
when the rose-colored glasses slip away,
when you realize all the pain you may have caused,
when all that's left to feel is the fractured pieces of what was your heart,
and all that you thought you knew is gone,
how can you tell,
whether you ever felt anything,
if anything had ever been there,
do you just lose it all,
are you left in uncertainty,
could it all have been an illusion,
can you be fooled so easily,
when everything goes away,
and your heart seems to change,
what is left?

Constant Reminder

The blood washing away with the stream,
As she pulls up her hands barely clean,
The blood had been hers but it now belonged to the world,
She had made the vow and it had gone terribly wrong,
Her hand throbbed from the slash, beating in time with her heart,
Why had she trusted this was right?
She had started bleeding out and he had run realizing what he had done,
She didn't know these woods nor where her home could be,
She stretched out her fingers, working feeling back into them,
The mark was a bloody gash now but would one day just be a scar,
A constant reminder of how stupid and gullible she had been,
To believe the words of some silly boy

Or

Did you think I seemed ditsy
Or was that what you loved?
Did you think I was too smart
Or did you see that as part of the charm?
Did you think I was too self-conscious 
Or was that endearing to you?
Did you think I had too small a smile
Or was that my best attribute?
Did you think I was too girly
Or was that my best quality?
Did you think we were perfect
Or were we out of each other's league?
Did you think we really could have had it all
Or was it all a joke?
Did you think I trusted you
Because I did
Now I don't 
Or maybe that's what I tell myself  

When

When you're too stubborn to admit all the tears,
When you're too tired to tell all your fears,
When everything's sore,
When you don't seem to care,
When you forget what you want and have no idea what you need,
When all emotions wash away,
When you spend all day and night in a daze,
When you live your life in dreams,
When you're too lazy to call,
When you know nothing about life at all,
What do you do?
 

What he had done

 She breathed in but couldn't breathe out,
The truth remained in the back of her throat like a pill she childishly didn't want to swallow,
Death comes for all doesn't it?
But it wasn't supposed to come for him,
It should have taken her instead,
It could have led her blindly and she would have only smiled,
It had snatched him in the night though as he tossed and wrestled against its enveloping touch,
Death had never been evil in her eyes,
It had been an acquaintance of hers, not wanted but also not despised,
Now it was the darkest enemy,
One that could not be defeated, only delayed,
She now would not go easily with it,
She would fight and struggle even as it held her closer,
Because that's what he had done.

To a Friend

I'm not the one who did it,
And yet I feel all the harm.
I'm your best friend aren't I?
Well, I guess I'm failing that job.
Did I not talk to you enough?
Tell you how much you meant to me.
Remind you how incredible you are.
Or anything a true friend is supposed to do.
I guess I let my own anxieties get in the way.
I'm used to friends who don't care.
I'm used to feeling like a bother.
I forgot how it felt to wait for a text.
But for this to happen?
I know you'd probably say it's not my fault and it's your own issues but still.
Why didn't you call?
I would've been there to talk, though I may be terrible at advice.
I would've begged you not to and reminded you all that you are.
But you didn't call.
You didn't even tell me.
Someone else did and it scared me.
You...

Throbbing Pain

That pain.
Feeling like you're nothing.
As though everything in your life would be better without you.
Why dwell on that?
Why even think of that?
Bring up all those emotions.
Let the tears hit the table like bullets.
Is it so you finally feel emotion?
So you know you did have feelings?
So you remember you're more?
So you remember not to let it happen again?
But the pain guts you.
It feels like a puffer fish in your stomach, puffing up then deflating.
It's not fire.
It doesn’t sting.
It grows.
Consumes you.
It throbs.
Deflates leaving emptiness in its place.
You said you moved on.
So why are you crying?
 

Breathe

Just breathe. He tells himself every morning. The dark smoky ruined air threatens to suffocate him and he would have let it a few months ago. All had seemed lost and honestly it still was. Then he saw some girl carrying this little orphaned baby. He hadn't known the girl and no, he was not in love with her. He was too young for love. The only love he had had in his life was that for his parents and brother and all of them were gone. The girl and child just reminded him life could go on and he should push on too. You never know what's around the bend, right? Maybe he could do something. All he could do now was survive but one day he might rebuild. He hacked for a good two minutes before gulping down some of his water. An older woman came up to him asking if he was feeling okay. Everyone was scared...

Throbbing Pain

That pain.
Feeling like you're nothing.
As though everything in your life would be better without you.
Why dwell on that?
Why even think of that?
Bring up all those emotions.
Let the tears hit the table like bullets.
Is it so you finally feel emotion?
So you know you did have feelings?
So you remember you're more?
So you remember not to let it happen again?
But the pain guts you.
It feels like a puffer fish in your stomach, puffing up then deflating.
It's not fire.
It throbs.
You moved on.
So why are you crying?
 

Historical Fiction Competition 2020

Out the Back

"I suppose I'm lucky to live near the water at least," Catherine Walsh thought as the breeze blew past her, twisting up the cotton floral ruffles of her dress.
"If only it flowed with liquor..." Her brother Daniel joked. Her eyes widened as she realized she had thought out loud. Oh, how many times that had happened. "Granted, if those idiots in Washington changed their mind Ma wouldn't be getting all that money... I sure am happy she lets me help her and Lonergan out at the store now." 
"Well you ain't the only one who helps, Danny boy." Catherine teased, pulling down his cap and tossing back her winding copper locks which nestled atop her warming ivory skin. "There's Uncle Willy, Jerry, Pop..."
"Don't call Lonergan Pop!" Daniel cut through the gooey warmness of his sister's voice. "We had a Pa and he died barely seven years ago! You were eight by then! I understand Annie Jean forgetting seeing as...

She liked him

Lynn liked him! The poor boy was an inch away from having a full freak out. He had never believed she would ever talk to him, let alone like him. He had absolutely loved her ever since he first bumped into her and she flashed her pleasant little smile and apologized. They had been talking and she had jokingly asked him who he liked. He of course said he wouldn't tell. She'd make fun of him for it. She kept asking and asking though, such a curious girl. He found it odd she kept pressing on and on about it. She finally said she would tell him who she liked if he told her first. He used this as an out, saying she should tell him first. She wouldn't though and it had become his turn to pester her. She had told him she simply couldn't tell him. It would be a disaster if the guy found out. He had...

What is left?

when your heart doesn't flutter,
when you open your eyes,
when the rose-colored glasses slip away,
when you realize all the pain you caused,
when all that's left to feel is the fractured pieces where your heart used to lay,
and all that you thought you knew goes away,
how can you tell,
whether you ever felt anything,
if anything had ever been there,
do you just lose it all,
are you left in uncertainty,
could it all have been an illusion,
can you be fooled so easily,
when everything goes away and your heart seems to change,
what is left?

Storming

She stormed out, feeling so annoyed. She missed her long hair. It was just a pixie black cut now but she so desperately needed to calm herself down. Braiding little strands of her hair had always helped. Just focus and take a deep breath. She kept running what she had said over and over in her head. She couldn't even remember what had started the argument, what had lit the fuse in her. Everything blurred in her vision. She needed to calm down. Everything confused her. She kept hearing 'I hate you' over and over again. It hadn't been something said in haste or annoyance but in true and total scorn for her. The sister she had cared for and put her life on hold for had only contempt and resentment. She detested her. The world kept spinning. She held her head hoping it would stop. It just kept twirling though faster and faster as her breaths got shorter and...

To a Friend

I'm not the one who did it,
And yet I feel all the harm.
I'm your best friend aren't I?
Well, I guess I'm failing that job.
Did I not talk to you enough?
Tell you how much you meant to me.
Remind you how incredible you are.
Or anything a true friend is supposed to do.
I guess I let my own anxieties get in the way.
I'm used to friends who don't care.
I'm used to feeling like a bother and I forgot how it felt to wait for the other person to text.
But for this to happen?
I know you'd probably say it's not my fault and it's your own issues but still.
Why didn't you call?
I would've been there to talk, though I may be terrible at advice.
I would've begged you not to and reminded you all that you are.
But you didn't call.
You didn't even tell me.
Someone else did and...

Why is Death always a He?

Why is Death a He?
Every time I have seen Death humanized it is a he, never a her. The thought leads to the question of how we construe it. We see Death as dark, brooding, ever-lurking around the corner. That does seem to be a man does it not? But what about when Death wraps itself around a willing victim or even pulls its victims mercilessly... Could death not be like a woman, an ever-present guardian there to take its poor naive children onto their next journey. Could it not be like the mother who kisses its child goodbye as she drops them off for their first day of school. The mother edging us on to the thing we so stupidly don't want to go to. Death has that power of a woman. On one side it is forceful, powerful and ultimately inevitable and on the other, comforting, enveloping, gentle, and protecting. So why is death always a He?

Flash Fiction Competition 2020

Who's Junie?

She inspected her hands, twirling them around in the air, noticing each honeydew curve. She was living in a daze within the dismally white-washed room. Everything echoed and yet there seemed to be no real sound. The nothingness felt heavy on her, weighing her down, making her drowsy. She yawned, arching her rough stinging back and seeing only more dissolute white. A woman came in looking as white and drab as the rest of the room. The woman smiled, bringing some natural light into the artificially-lit room, and said, "Oh, good. You're up. How you feelin' Junie?"
Who's Junie?  

She

She wanted to be a powerful girl,
The type others could look to,
The type to inspire,
The one who didn’t need a man,
The one who didn’t want a hero,
She needed to be the hero,
She needed to stand alone,
She couldn’t be beat by a boy, 
She felt this weight as though being beat by a guy was a disappointment to all woman,
She couldn’t disappoint,
She wanted to be a formidable force,
She needed to be a strong-minded woman,
She didn’t want to be a little princess, and yet she did,
She wanted to be strong and unstoppable,
Someone who rose above it all,
Who may cry but will also fight,
Society showed her it was possible,
Though it felt near impossible to accomplish,
All this pressure and uncertainty,
And yet she loved it

Flash Fiction Competition 2020

Who's Junie?

She inspected her hands twirling them around in the air noticing each moving curve. She was living in a daze in the dismally white washed room. Everything echoed and yet there seemed to be no real sound. It all felt heavy to her, weighing her down, making her drowsy. She yawned, arching her rough stinging back and seeing only more dissolute white. Another woman came in looking as white and drab as the rest of the room. She smiled, bringing some natural light into the artificially-lit room and said, "Oh, good. You're up. How you feelin' Junie?"
Who's Junie?  

Beyond Reason

I Have No Idea

Do the china doll's eyes ever get tired of staring?
Do the cloud's want to come down or do they like it up there?
Do the music notes feel the emotion they convey or are they completely indifferent?
Do roses mind being among daisies or do they feel above them?

Storming

She stormed out, feeling so annoyed. She missed her long hair. It was just a pixie black cut now but she now so desperately needed to calm herself down. Braiding little strands of her hair had always helped. Just focus and take a deep breath. She kept running what she had said over and over in her head. She couldn't even remember what had started the argument, what had lit the fuse in her. Everything blurred in her vision. She needed to calm down. Everything confused her. She kept hearing 'I hate you' over and over again. It hadn't been something said in haste or annoyance but in true and total scorn for her. The sister she had cared for and put her life on hold for had only contempt and resentment. She detested her. The world kept spinning. She held her head hoping it would stop. It just kept twirling though faster and faster as her breaths got shorter...