With ease I take pen to paper,

I think prose is in my DNA,

that words flow freely by hand.

I can crank out page after page each day.

I believe I’m saturated with talent,

all my compositions are profound.

I never have writer’s block

and always leave the readers spellbound.

But when my self-worth becomes over inflated,

when I feel on par with the Bard,

I reread my adolescent break-up poems written long ago,

and am humbled while my current ego gets charred.

For $1.99!

A third of the price of a cup of coffee!

These heartless words swallowed up my artistic freedom

Years of my essence disguised as words

Now caged like a bird

Separated from others of a feather

For $1.99!

A third of the price of a cup of coffee!

You put a cost on literary connections

This was a home to release frustration

Without worries of limitation

It was a sacred space

For $1.99!

A third of the price of a cup of coffee!

You're just another desensitized place

For $1.99!

A third of the price of a cup of coffee!

These heartless words swallowed up my artistic freedom

Years of my essence disguised as words

Now caged like a bird

Separated from others of a feather

For $1.99!

A third of the price of a cup of coffee!

You put a cost on literary connections

This was a home to release frustration

Without worries of limitation

It was a sacred space

For $1.99!

A third of the price of a cup of coffee!

You're just another desensitized place

Hey everyone. I’m still here for now. If you are thinking of leaving, I just wanted to extend my thanks for your contributions to this community. I hope you find another venue to post your writings. I have always supported being true to your heart and yourself. Doing what’s right for you is never a wrong decision.

“asdfjkl:” is the universal resting position on a keyboard. It’s where you go from there that makes your writing come alive. And not everyone knows what sequence of keystrokes are required to compose something worthy of reading. So wherever you end up, keep sharing your unique talent so others are moved or inspired.

I’ve been part of Prose for almost a decade. Back when it felt like a hidden corner of the internet where storytellers and poets actually saw each other. We weren’t chasing likes, we were chasing connection. And somehow, we found it.

To every writer who commented on my pieces, DM’d me, encouraged me, or shared their own soul in return: thank you. You made this place worth logging into.

But I can’t pretend this place is what it used to be. A paywall dropped overnight. No heads-up. No email. And suddenly, years of writing, our writing got locked behind a monthly fee.

If we hadn’t spoken up, we wouldn’t even be able to retrieve our own words.

I get it...platforms need money. But let’s not confuse community with control. This wasn’t transparency. It was silence until enough of us made noise.

So I’m choosing to walk. Not out of bitterness, but out of self-respect. I’ll keep writing. I’ll keep connecting. Just not here.

If you're reading this and you’ve ever supported my work, thank you. That part was real.

The rest? We outgrew it.

i can't believe i've been writing here since middle school and now i'm only a year out from graduating college. this place has helped give me reasons to stay alive. so many people have supported me here and i'm so, so grateful for the community. it has truly been a privilege to share my thoughts here instead of keeping them locked up in my mind. unfortunately, having become a paid platform, prose is no longer accessible for me. i will not be deleting my account but i will no longer be updating on it. in the future, updates will be on Poetry Farm, at the same username. it may take me some time to finish setting it up, and i may or may not re-upload everything i have posted on here. thank you for all these years, and if you choose to keep following my work, thank you! a final snippet for prose:

i write you my little rubies, make a ring and keep my mind forever.

I didn’t ask for you.

Didn’t seek out this… whatever this is.

But when the noise stopped and the lights went low, your silence sat next to mine like it belonged.

And now, every time you glance in my direction like you already know the ending...

I feel something ancient unravel inside of me.

Not fireworks.

Not explosions.

Just a steady burn I’ve never known before.

Something about your presence feels like the Universe is quietly breathing beside me.

And when you speak,

when you look at me like I’m the only real thing left in this unraveling world,

I remember why I never gave up on magic.

Because you and me,

that’s where the magic happens.

Always has.

It slumped there on the plate like roadkill, bloated and leaking, a swollen thing that had been left too long under the wrong sun. The ketchup on top had blistered and cracked like dried blood, curling up at the edges in scabs, hiding whatever sins had been folded into the meat below. And the smell...Gosh, the smell. Not quite rotten, but something worse. Something wrong. A hot, humid stink, like the breath of an animal that should have died but didn’t, still wheezing, still dripping.

The inside was mottled, speckled with soggy breadcrumbs and wet lumps of egg that hadn’t mixed right, the yolk gone rubbery, clinging to the ground-up sinew like tiny tumors. It wasn’t solid so much as…coagulated. It wobbled when the fork sank in, shivering in slow motion, releasing a glistening ooze of meat-sweat. And when you chewed? God help you.

It didn’t break down. It mushed. Spread across the tongue like warm clay, coating the teeth in a thick, greasy film. No matter how much you swallowed, it stayed. Clung to the back of your throat, slithered down slow, like something still alive. And when you thought you were done? When you took a sip of water to wash it down? The taste came back, resurrected, stronger than before, crawling up from the pit of your stomach with the slow, inevitable dread of a nightmare you know you won’t wake up from.

Meatloaf wasn't food. Meatloaf was a dare.

No longer does the Earth's gravity hold me in place.

No longer does the Moon's light guide me to my fortress of solitude.

No longer does the Sun warm my bones with just a glance.

Because of you.

You give me all and more, and I know there is so much more to experience with you.

Because the Universe drew the lines of you with stardust and colors that were meant for my hands to trace.