Tag Archive | feelings

From Self-Loathing to Self-Love


She often speaks of love
But what of the ador
She owes her own
Seasoned body and soul
The extraordinary simplicity
Of a moment
When conceding to her age
Becomes a gift and not a crime
When clock-stopping
Loses its baby-soft appeal
When big browns snagging
On those department store panes
Fail to spur misadventures
In self-upgrading
When ‘girl’ rings true
To a past she outgrew
And the woman at hand
Is the queen who shines
Despite abs that no longer behave
In a concave way
Her wash-n-go coif
And Mom Squad garb
Agreeable garnishes
To a half-century (just two years shy)
Worn under her eyes
Like a badge of honor
Because this is a life
She has truly lived


Copyright © S. A. Healey


Image source: unsplash.com – Daria Nepriakhina, photographer



More (A Poem/Short Story)


She kept the bouquets
Given in bloom
Before reverence was a ghost
Rancid lilies
On the bedside table
Patronizing her
With their shelf-life devotion

“Never again will I love,” she proclaimed
“Never again will I give,” she explained
“Never again will I chase the chaser”
“Stroke the ego”
“Be led by reins made from frays of detachment”

She told herself
Life was brilliant, easier
When she kept her heart guarded
Though at the point of sale
She didn’t buy
What she was pushing

Yet she existed without living
Thought without reasoning
Reached for tomorrow
Inside ancient history
Plagued by its confines
As the floor met the ceiling
And the walls closed in

She took to sand and sea
Cloud gazing in the dunes
Spongy beds beneath her spine
Bursts of freckles just a sun-kiss away
As she finally came to

Her fractured fairytale
Still pierced her mind
But its jabs were brief
And its frequency was fading

Oh, but she was slow
To usher in…him
A knight without the armor 
Bold and uninvited
Extracting her from that comfy corner
Of complacency

She took his attention
With a side of suspicion
Despite emotions upending
Without permission
Blending then curving
In all directions

Ah, but it felt too good

Too rare
Too risky
Too scary
Too much
Too fast
Too soon

She charted an escape
A path to resistance
Right there for the taking

She clung to it
Bathed in it
Slept in it
Woke to it
Gorged herself on it
And wore it
Like a second skin

But damn
If he wasn’t persistent
And beautiful
And so easy to adore

But surely
Her surrender
To that exquisite ache
Adhering to her frantic pulse
Was merely a prelude
To a greater pain to come?


Predictions were tangled
And often convoluted
So she took a leap of fate
For this joy was worth
Every maybe

When he showed her the stars
She was infinite
When he opened his arms
She fell home
When he pulled her close
Her body remembered
What she told it to forget
Its artful formation
Both courageous and kind

When he held out his heart
She slipped it on for size
Its perfect fit
Impossible to ignore

And when she let out her crazy
He took out his scars
And when she let down her hair
He caught all her fears
And when he kept coming back
She stopped asking why
And when he loved her
She loved him more


Copyright © S. A. Healey


Image source: pixabay.com



Fill Me In: An Excerpt

I’ve recently gotten some requests to share an excerpt from one of my novels. So, I thought I’d do that here today. The following is an excerpt from Fill Me In (The Liquid Series, #2), which is currently available to read for free on Wattpad.com, with new chapters added weekly. If you’d like to read the entire series, you can start with the first volume, Empty Me Out (The Liquid Series, #1), also on Wattpad. If you’re already following Kelsey and Mark’s story, thank you from the bottom of my heart for taking the time to read. I greatly appreciate all the support.

photo - Copy (2)

FILL ME IN: An Excerpt

Anticipation is almost as good as the payoff. When the straightest line of the purest snow lays in waiting, I can already feel the ice-prick tingle. Lena passes me a pipe and I lean over the coffee table, inhaling liberation while my moral scruples crawl behind my skull and hide. I’m here but not all there. I’m hovering outside my body, looking for a place with no memory.

I find it. Right here. In this moment. It’s all I care about. It’s all I need.

Kings of Leon blasts from Brett’s stereo, thumping in my ears before consuming my body in a way that feels like a religious experience. My eyes fall closed as I bob my head manically, channeling my inner rock god. When hysterical laughter erupts from behind, I join in. I’m not sure what’s so hilarious, but I cannot stop laughing. My lids lift until I see Brett and Lena doubled over, gesturing toward my feet. Glancing down, I am riveted to something wet and leaking — it drips in time to Sex on Fire’s opening drum riff, dropping starburst patterns onto the carpet and across the tops of my sneakers. As I admire the splattered works of art, it occurs to me that I must have hit my head on something, but I don’t remember shit. I touch my temple, then study my red-soaked hand. Mesmerized, I watch the blood settle into the creases of my palm — it blows my mind. This sends me into another fit of hysterics.

People fill the room gradually and all at once, joining me on the fast track to fucked-up. When a bag of wacky dust appears on the futon like magic, I stuff it in my back pocket and don’t ask questions. Tupperware containers are passed around and my mouth waters. Grabbing a handful of brownies, I scarf them down as I stand to scan the place for alcohol. The room spins and I collapse to my knees. A brunette wearing a silver mini-dress bends over in slow motion, holding out a plastic cup. Enjoying the view, I take what she offers and knock back the contents. Discarding the cup on the floor, I catch a glimpse of my hand — it’s still dirty red. I laugh my ass off at the discovery. The brunette giggles in response, reaching down to dab at the gash in my head. I laugh even harder when she shows me her bloodied fingertips, until she slips them into her mouth and sucks them clean. I fall silent — and now I’m horny as fuck.

Someone is moaning but my head is too heavy to turn to seek out the culprit. I’m on my back but have no idea how I got this way. I am pinned under something. There’s more moaning. Something is pressing against me — it feels good. The brunette’s face comes into view, and despite the makeup spackled all over her pores, I decide she’s pretty. Her hair smells like strawberries as it sweeps past my nose and tickles my neck. Opening my mouth to laugh, a moan falls out instead. She grinds on top of me, upping the ante with her animalistic grunting. I wish I could take off my pants. As if reading my mind, she pops the top button to my jeans. Her hair hangs like a veil over her eyes, and for a moment I imagine she’s Kelsey.

No. I don’t want to think about her right now.

The moaning escalates and I’m not sure if it’s me, the brunette, or someone else making all the noise. Somehow, I muster the strength to lift my head and look around. The party has organized itself into groups of twos and threes. They’re huddled in corners, pressed against walls, sprawled across the floor, tangled on the futon. One couple is completely naked, the others not far behind. The moaning continues and it hurts my ears. I can’t stop thinking about Kelsey and I become trapped inside my emotions. I need out of here.

“Get the fuck off me,” I say.

Ignoring me, the brunette persists with the bump and grind, but it doesn’t feel good anymore. “Oh come on,” she coos. “I’m just getting warmed up.”

Kicking her off, I force myself to sit upright but the room tilts and I keel onto my side. She snorts and falls back on her heels, pulling her dress over her head and tossing it aside. I think she’s going to try seducing me some more, but instead she crawls toward Brett who is now sitting alone, half-naked, and looking only too eager to give her what she wants.

Again, I push myself up, but a hand shoves me back and I land hard. My head throbs while the ringing in my ears drowns out the grunting that drowns out the moaning that drowns out everything else. Fingernails slip under my T-shirt, raking over my chest as a topless Lena appears like a nightmare.

“My turn,” she mouths, unzipping my fly.

Dry heaves wrack my body as I jump to my feet, knocking Lena flat on her back. Her hair fans out wildly — an over processed mass of tangled straw. Biting her lip, she snakes her hand just under the waistband of her panties, which are a Pepto-Bismol pink. Disgusted, I look away, but not before reading the unmistakable “fuck you” on her lips since I still can’t hear shit. Vomit rises in my throat as I move to escape, but my legs won’t cooperate and I careen into a couple dry humping against the wall. They watch in amusement as I finally give into my churning stomach and throw up all over the floor. My ears pop as the ringing stops and boisterous laughter takes its place.

“Poor fuck can’t handle his shit,” some asshole chides from a far corner of the room.

Straightening, I wipe my mouth with the back of my blood-stained hand, taking in the scene before me. I suddenly think of my parents and what a disappointment I’d been to them. What if they’d seen me like this? I feel myself getting choked up, and I try like hell to hold it in, but I’m too much of a fucking pussy. The entire room points and laughs like I’m some sort of side-show freak. Wiping my cheeks, I flounder my way out of the apartment, vowing never to return.

I half-walk, half-tumble down three flights of stairs, and when I reach the bottom I’m pretty sure my left ankle is sprained. Fishing keys from my front pocket, I manage to make it to my car without falling and tasting cement. I peel away from the curb with the windows down, and the air feels refreshing. Sweat pours off my forehead, dripping into my eyes. Or maybe it’s blood — I’m not sure of anything at this point. I just want to hit the gas pedal until I’m so far away from reality that I disappear.

Night falls as I drive, coating me in its discombobulating darkness. I know I’m on a highway, but I can’t determine which one, or how long I’ve been on it. Stars dot my vision, which pisses me off because I can’t make out what lane I’m in. Squinting, I try concentrating on the lines in the road, but they’re equally confused, blending then curving in all directions. Panic sets in and I slap my cheeks in an effort to sober up, momentarily forgetting to keep my hands on the steering wheel. The car veers across the median just as I realize my mistake.


Horns blare as I grip the wheel and jerk it, avoiding a direct hit with oncoming traffic. Swerving into what I think is the breakdown lane, I slam on the breaks, sending the car into a tailspin. I hear a crack and glass shatters everywhere — it’s in my lap, on my shirt — shards imbed in my face and neck. The pain is too much and I can’t even scream. My stomach drops as the car lurches, and that’s when I realize I’m falling — the plunge is steep and cantankerous, delivering its turbulent beating while my eyes flood with a thickening wetness. I retain one final thought as everything goes black.

I’ve hit rock bottom.


S A Healey, a happily married mother of two, is and will forever remain, a lover of words and a sucker for romance. You can find out more about her novels and other works at http://www.sahealey.com.