Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

Drowning

Time never moves slower then when you’re dying on the inside. When the dam breaks and the tears come. I once held their hand in mine. Now their hand holds my heart in a fist and they’ve wrapped the other around my throat.

The only thing keeping me above the waves even as they shove me under. Your waves crash over me until I’m gasping for air. Punishing my lungs with every breath I cannot draw.

Your hand around my throat keeps my head above the water, but still I cannot breathe. The fist around my heart hurts to much to try and take in air.

I listen to your waves and watch for your storms. But you do not do the same for me and your storms so overtake you that you cannot see what they have done to me.

My tears mix with the water and it goes unnoticed as long as I soothe your hurts.  I have a bucket filled with holes to try and keep the water at a safe distance. But the hand around my throat is all that keeps me afloat even as it drowns me.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

Break Me-But I’m Already Broken…

Heart in pieces, pounding like a drum, could feel the pulse, see it under her skin if you looked closely enough.

Mind racing, trying to make sense of it all, to put the words together, but having to remind her lungs to breathe in air and exhale.

Break me again her heart cried. Let them break me again, because you can’t fix this part of you that loves to deeply. Not until you’re broken enough to not come back.

She never learns. Let them break you again until there’s nothing left and you can be reborn from the ashes of what they called love.

Her loyalty knows no boundaries. She will give until there is nothing left. Until her heart washes down the drain of her shower along with her hopes and dreams of what could have been.

Break me now her heart cried so that I don’t have to wonder when I will suffer later. When it will all burn and the scars inflicted will never heal.

Her heart whispered back, they cannot break what has already been broken. Your tears have blinded you. Look at the blood on your hands. No amount of needle and thread will repair the damage done here.

The pieces are already gone. The damage in place. They rest in another’s hands, carelessly held or tossed away and you will have to scorch your surface and rebuild your walls. You cannot break what is already shattered.

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

The Ruins

She, like a goddess of old, stood by watching as life continued beyond what had already passed. Aging with each passing day, knowing it would not last. 

She remained still like a statue, even when at times she could feel her heart breaking on the inside. The time had not yet come, so she became ever harder. 

There were those that brushed against her marble edges to test how far they might go, others still who lashed out with sharp words and deeds, creating scars within and without. 

The clouds shifted above her, days turned into nights, silver trails of tears tracked down her marble face, hidden beneath the moons soft comfort so those that caught a glimpse would always think it a trick of the eye. 

Her tears dried up and she remained in place, she no longer felt the pain as she had before, she was moving forward but solitary and confined, until the day she felt a soft as feathers stroke against her cheek where her tears once fell. 

She pushed it away, she had to many scars now and while she longed, she did not relish more pain, even the goddesses of old knew when to retreat, but it always came back. 

Each night, words whispered softly in her mind, a stroking, seeking, hand looking for the key to set her free, she fell in love with the voice and the words as it described a future with them together, she grew to long for it. 

She always responded in kind to the voice, sending her thoughts back their way, brushing her soul against theirs gently, she could feel the cracks in the marble grow larger, the vibrations reached her soul as the large wall she had encased herself in crashed around her.

Rising from the ruins she sought the comfort of the one who’d brushed against her, sparkling eyes met hers, as they too rose from their own pile of ruins.

Hearts and souls joined together as their hands and arms held each other, because sometimes the battle was worth the fight for a future free of ruins and scars that no longer bore a phantom pain. 

Posted in Poetry, Uncategorized

What Am I?

Ignorance is rarely bliss when it comes to matters of the heart and emotions are involved, it’s usually painful in the end.

Feelings can be like a persistent, never ending ocean wave that crashes over you, again and again. Causing you to feel like you’re drowning.

Your brain creates rational logic as quickly as your lungs force out the sobs that choke you and the tears fall from your eyes. 

You know you won’t always feel this way, but the hammer to your skull and the fist clutching your heart speak different tunes.

You know the reasons behind the actions, but you still feel the pain of the inaction and seemingly empty words.

Your body detaches from itself, becomes a shell. The pain is there but it becomes dull, abstract, as if someone else suffers it even as your hands cover your face or clutch your sides in an effort to comfort what cannot be comforted.

Am I a human being?

Or am I a wind up toy?

Am I an active partner?

Or am I there to stroke your ego?

Am I a treasured friend?

Or am I your entertainment?

I am not the sum of what you make me. I am many things to many people. Rarely am I seen for what I am. If I am me: Then what are you?