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Monthly Archives: February 2014

Open the door, Rose

CL Gillmore
Excerpt from the novel, “A Friend Request,” by CL Gillmore
“For a few surreal moments, I stood—cell phone in hand—rereading the last text.
‘Open the door, Rose.’
Open the door?
Oh, my God.
Was this a dream… a fantasy?
I placed the phone on the nightstand and padded across the carpeting to the door. Placing the palm of my hand against the smooth dark wood, I closed my eyes and sent a fervent, child-like prayer heavenward.
“Dear Jesus… please let Jake be standing on the other side of this door.”
My hands trembled. My fingers fumbled with the lock. I grasped the knob and pulled the door open.
There in the hallway—wearing a white, button-down shirt, untucked over a set of faded, blue denim jeans, a brown leather tote in his hand—stood Jake Richardson.
His deep blue eyes met mine… more beautiful than I remembered. His hair—long, thick, now streaked with gray and silver—brushed the collar of his shirt. A full, graying mustache outlined his generous lips.
“Hello, Rose.”

Stitched together…

CL Gillmore


“I like flaws and am most comfortable around those who have them. I, myself, am made up entirely of flaws, stitched together with good intentions.” ~Augusten Burroughs

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You walk back into my thoughts

CL Gillmore
Excerpt from the novel, “A Friend Request,” by CL Gillmore“Late at night or very early in the morning—while my eyes are still closed—the door opens quietly in the darkness, and you walk back inside my thoughts, my memories, my heart… my arms. ”

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Your tombstone stands among the rest

CL Gillmore

“Your tombstone stands among the rest;
Neglected and alone.
The name and date are chiseled out
On polished, marbled stone.
It reaches out to all who care.
It is too late to mourn.
You did not know that I exist.
You died and I was born.
Yet each of us are cells of you
In flesh, in blood, in bone.
Our blood contracts and beats a pulse
Entirely not our own.
Dear Ancestor, the place you filled
One hundred years ago
Spreads out among the ones you left
Who would have loved you so.
I wonder if you lived and loved,
I wonder if you knew
That someday I would find this spot,
And come to visit you.”

~Walter Butler Palmer, 1906~

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