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The Cost of Keeping Peace

/ Nancy Ann Creed / Leave a comment

The lines were drawn in quiet ink,
A map of “yes” and “stay,”
I feared the bridge would surely sink
If I turned the other way.
I held my breath to keep the peace,
A ghost within the room,
Fearing that my own release
Would seal a friendship’s doom.

I thought the cost of being me
Was more than they would pay,
That if I spoke, they’d turn and flee
And leave me in the gray.
But then the weight began to gall,
The “jokes” that left a sting,
The way they made me feel so small
While I gave everything.

So I stood up, a sudden flame,
And watched the masks descend,
I finally spoke my truth, my name,
And waited for the end.
They met my strength with cold disdain,
With anger and with slight,
They saw my joy as their own pain
And walked into the night.

And in the silence left behind,
The truth began to bloom:
The friends I was so scared to find
Were never in that room.
For if a boundary breaks a bond,
The bond was but a thread;
Of people who are truly fond,
There’s nothing left to dread.

If standing up meant losing them,
I lost a heavy chain,
A false and hollow stratagem
That only offered pain.
The ones who leave when you grow tall
Were never yours to keep;
It’s better that the shadows fall
So you can finally leap.

More works by Nancy Ann Creed

MAEVE https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd
MATTHEW https://books2read.com/u/bzNZYj
JUSTIN https://books2read.com/u/mBKzLZ
MAURELLE https://books2read.com/u/bzN19D
ANNBELLE https://books2read.com/u/bWqEkx
Carillon https://books2read.com/u/38anZV


Annabelle: The Fierce Survivor of Shadows

/ Nancy Ann Creed / Leave a comment

Annabelle 🗝️

Survivor. Shadow-walker. Keeper of secrets the Realm tried to bury.
I don’t fear the dark; I’ve learned to command it. 🗡️

Defying the Chronicles, one shadow at a time.

MAEVE https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd
MATTHEW https://books2read.com/u/bzNZYj
JUSTIN https://books2read.com/u/mBKzLZ
MAURELLEhttps://books2read.com/u/bzN19D
ANNBELLE https://books2read.com/u/bWqEkx
Carillon https://books2read.com/u/38anZV (COMING MARCH 1, 2026)

The Way Back to Us

/ Nancy Ann Creed / 3 Comments
gun batimi
Photo by Burak Bahadır Büyükkılınç on Pexels.com

The Way Back to Us

The silent, turning tide of life
Has stretched the maps we knew,
The seasons shifted, ground gave way,
The ties between us drew

Slowly apart, a creeping drift.
Demands attention, energy,
Like water through the sand,
Leaching the solid ground of time.

There was a time, not long ago,
We were each other’s stay,
The anchors holding fast and sure
In storm of early day.
We held the secrets, deep and bright,
The wisdom time had wrought,
Our days marked by the shared, full laugh,
The tapestry we caught—

Before the world turned bright to cold.
I feel the sharp ache of the miss,
The ease we used to share,
Where we could simply be, no need
For any word or care.
That ease is gone; the quiet now,
The profound, long silence cast,
Has tragically become the sound
Our relationship held fast.
When air grows thin with struggle’s breath,
I seek those mirrored faces still.

I’m reaching back through the gray blur
The passing years have made,
Refusing that demanding life
Will keep the things that fade.
The miles that stand between us now
Are lines on charts that lie,
Meaningless compared to the depth
Our history lifts high.
Our memories, no fading echoes—
But brilliant, fixed stars in the night.

With will and concentrated hand,
I clear the tangled brush,
Desperate to find the path again
Beyond the isolating hush.
A clear, resounding call I send

Into the lonely void.
My friends, I want you now to know:
I’m here, steadfast, unalloyed.
I want us back—the kind of bond
That bends but will not break,
No matter what the wind may bring.
It is the time our circle wakes.

More Works by Nancy Ann Creed

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd

I am Broken

/ Nancy Ann Creed / Leave a comment
shallow focus photo of woman s reflection on broken mirror
Photo by Ismael Sánchez on Pexels.com

I am broken.

The words, sharp and unwarranted,
slice through the fragile shell I built.
Tiny, invisible blades, their power immense,
carving my heart into scattered, irreparable pieces.

My carefully constructed dreams,
ambitious plans, vital goals—
all crumble before this onslaught,
a lifetime of building reduced to dust.
My essence, fractured, lies on the cold floor.

Why do these ephemeral sounds,
mere vibrations in the air, hurt so?
Why grant them such devastating power,
to tear the fabric of our being,
to leave us utterly immobilized?

With a deep, shuddering breath, I rise.
Muscles protest, heavy with despair.
I kneel, picking mangled, bleeding pieces
from the unforgiving floor,
cradling the remnants, a silent cry.

I try, with feverish intensity, to mend—
reaching for glue, tape, harsh staples.
But none of them hold.
The cracks are too deep, the breaks too fundamental.
A heart shattered by words
cannot be fixed by physical objects

Again, the haunting question returns:
Why do I give words this power?
Why allow such deep, lingering pain?

Yet, the act of kneeling has shifted something.
I stand up, not whole, but resilient.
I place my broken, but still beating, heart
back into my chest,
and with a final act of defiance, I dust myself off.

The reality remains:
Words possess the power to tear us down,
to reduce us to rubble,
weapons that wound the soul.

But words are not solely destruction.
They possess the capacity to restore.
A single, well-placed phrase—
of kindness, encouragement, or understanding—
can be the foundation upon which we rebuild.

Love, in its purest expression,
is the ultimate healing force,
articulated through sincere, positive words,
what ultimately saves us all.

Words can tear you down.
Words can also lift you up.

Choose your words with the highest intention.
Strive always to lift a spirit,
to reinforce worth, to acknowledge a presence.

Never fail to be kind.
Kindness is the shield against the world’s harsh words,
the balm for its inflicted injuries.

Remember this immutable truth:
Words are a powerful, double-edged sword.
They can drag someone into the deepest pit of despair,
or elevate them to heights of strength and hope.

Use this profound tool with meticulous care.
Wield your words to heal, to encourage, and to restore.

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd

The Unanswered Call

/ Nancy Ann Creed / Leave a comment

The Unanswered Call

The silence stretches, wide and deep, a space
Where my small ‘hello’ falls without a trace.
I check my phone, a habit worn and true,
A faint, false hope that maybe it’s from you.

The thread of connection, I’m the one who weaves,
The constant opener, the one who believes
That if I pause, if I just let it be,
The silence would grow to infinity.

I map the distance, gauge the growing gap,
And I’m the one who always has to ta
Upon the glass, the careful, gentle nudge,
To prove our bond isn’t built on a grudge.

I know your news, the triumphs and the strife,
Because I ask about your life.
I hold the mirror, catching all the light,
And listen late into the lonely night.

But oh, dear friend, a quiet, simple plea
Sometimes I wonder, do you think of me?
When the dark shadows start to close me in,
And my own battle is where I begin…

I wish just once, without a prompting word,
The unexpected check-in would be heard.
To see a message, a small, unsolicited sign,
“Are you okay? How are things on your line?”

To feel the warmth of being sought and seen,
And know I’m valued, not just a machine
For comfort given, always on the call.
I long to know I matter after all.

More Work by Nancy Ann Creed

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd

I See the Phone

/ Nancy Ann Creed / Leave a comment
pexels-photo-699122.jpeg
Photo by Tyler Lastovich on Pexels.com

The black phone rests, a silence made of glass,
A direct line across the choking air.
My fingers yearn to seize its cool, smooth mass,
To dial the number etched beyond compare.
A fleeting urge to break the constant drone,
To trade my heart’s loud drumming for a voice unknown.

Or I could message, try to weave a careful plea,
A sequence of small signs, an emoji’s face.
To message more, to bridge the digital sea,
But leaden weight holds me within this space.
I am a prisoner in my own inertia’s thrall,
Unable to bridge the gap from thought to call.

My restless hands climb to my weary head,
To twirl a strand of blonde around a finger’s tip.
A pull, a slow release, a mark of tender red,
Until the coil is tight upon my lip.
A meaningless ritual, a physical display,
Of all the mental turmoil that will not fade away

Inside, the engine roars, though I appear so still,
My heart a frantic drummer beating out alarm.
The air is thin, a breath against my panicked will,
A visceral, exhausting, full-body harm.
Yet, still life carries on, the sun’s indifferent track,

Oblivious to the silent crisis holding back.
And so, I do not call. The paralysis has won,
Against the simple, human wish to just connect.
I hate the phone for what it has become,
A terrifying chance of being now rejected

The pressure of potential, the awkwardness that lies,
Reflected in the fear within my anxious eyes.
I lift my hand again, to message in the night,
But corrosive thoughts poison the touch before it lands:
I am a bother, a shadow, an intrusive blight,
A need that only inconveniences hands.

A self-imposed boundary, a powerful, deep chill,
That freezes my desire and holds my actions still.
This cease-less fight, the heart that pounds and strains,
The hand that freezes on the tool for grace—
The manufactured boundary of “being a pain”—
This is the cage, the isolating space.

Anxiety’s invisible lock, a final, cruel decree,
To watch the phone lie unused, and never to be free.

https://books2read.com/u/m25Ygd

A Soul Connection, in This Lonely Space.

/ Nancy Ann Creed / Leave a comment
blond woman in black standing at seashore and seagulls flying around
Photo by Наталья Маркина on Pexels.com

The quiet hum of an empty room,
Aching with silence, shrouded in gloom.
A longing for laughter, a shared embrace,
A soul connection, in this lonely space.

To find a friend, a kindred spirit true,
Whose words bring comfort, whose thoughts shine through.
Someone to message, without a second thought,
Whose conversations leave my spirit caught.

To share the mundane, the dreams, the fears,
To wipe away the lonely, silent tears.
A bond unbreakable, a trust so deep,
Knowing my secrets, they’ll forever keep.

But fear whispers doubts, a constant refrain,
“Will I be too much? Will they feel the strain?”
The need for connection battles the dread,
Of being a burden, words left unsaid.

Yet hope flickers still, a tiny flame,
That somewhere out there, someone feels the same.
A yearning for friendship, a hand to hold,
A story waiting, waiting to unfold.

Poetry Prompt Wednesday

/ Nancy Ann Creed / Leave a comment

Write a poem about a memory that is important to you.

Poetry Prompt

/ Nancy Ann Creed / Leave a comment 
I miss you, friends, across the miles,
I miss your laughter, smiles, your tales.
I miss our talks, our games, our fun,
I miss the way we used to run.

I miss the way you made me smile,
I miss the way you made me feel.
I miss the way you always knew
How to make me laugh and do.

I miss you when I'm all alone,
I miss you when I'm feeling down.
I miss you all the time, you know,
I miss you more than words can show.

Poetry Prompt Wednesday #6

/ / Leave a comment

Poetry Prompt Wednesday

CHOOSE ONE OF YOUR FIVE SENSES. WRITE A POEM THAT FOCUSES ON YOUR CHOSEN SENSE.