I’ve got nothing to write
So I’ll lay my empty soul bare for you to witness
Your expectations have:
Put me on a pedestal
So high in the sky
But you should know without wings
I cannot fly.
Fashioned out of me
A person that cannot exist
Who I am not
But cannot resist.
Your expectations have:
To no relief
They have hurt me
I had no expectations of you.
No boxes to fit you in.
All I had were open arms
To accept you
In all your forms.
You had them of me
I had none of you
You bask in that glow
While I shiver in your cold
Icy as the snow
Your expectations have:
Led to this atrophy
As I write this soliloquy
Endless is my restlessness
A soul in flight of hopelessness
I’d have none to blame for my soul’s demise.
So be it foolish or be it wise
I walk away, my soul a prize.
Let’s have a heart to mind,
just you and I.
You know me,
but I am you.
You forget that sometimes,
when you get caught up in the superficial.
We grew up together, but away from one another
You thought yourself into a corner.
I felt myself into a rut.
We’re constantly pulling apart.
We’re the same person, but
my emotions are so big and your logic too narrow
to occupy the same space
We’re alive together, but each exist alone.
You take over the day,
and I can only come out by night.
You are what they want to see,
but I am who you should really be.
Is there a way to reconcile
the dreams I misplaced and the ambition that you found?
Could we ever find that common ground
we lost between two separate lives lived as one?
We could come together,
Heart and Mind.
You’ll tell me your fears,
and I’ll show you my tears.
So, let’s have a heart to mind,
just you and I.
Because I am you,
and you are me.
Mind meet heart,
and heart meet mind.
I found her,
cowering in a corner
too afraid to come outside,
for she feared the burn of the rays of the sun.
I awoke to her,
in the morning light.
She was freshly dazed and so unaware
it was too late to warn her as
my right eyes met her wrong gaze.
Her intentions were pure.
Happiness for them was her lure.
Somewhere along the way she forgot her pace.
Somehow she wound up in the wrong place.
Her soul was too bright
for its pitch black disposition.
Her kaleidoscopic soul was
obscured by their monochromatic vision.
Never was there a darker place,
She stumbled there, between hell and dreams,
She knew who she was, but not where to go.
Confusion and recklessness tore her in one blow.
She wandered off her path.
Starry eyed, she followed her heart
right to the thing that broke her apart.
She was left lonely in the aftermath.
I only meant well for us.
To follow their path, was to build our future.
So ahead I went,
Doing what I thought was best.
Quietly she watched
As I put together someone else’s dream.
I didn’t know I was using parts of her
To cement their walls.
I did what I thought was best for us,
I paved our path so we would never struggle.
I didn’t know she felt so stifled.
I had no idea it was far from what she wanted.
She didn’t fight me before,
Not until now.
But it’s too late,
We’re too far down this wrong road
to turn back now, and go right .
If I’m dead, then I’m sorry.
Don’t cry though,
This is what I wanted.
Don’t be angry either,
I couldn’t do it anymore.
If I’m still alive but critical,
Don’t keep me alive, tethered by machines
I don’t want to be.
I held on as long as I could,
fought all the demons I would
But I just…
I couldn’t do it anymore.
I’m sorry your hopes and your dreams were wasted on me.
I’m sorry your love and your time was spent on me.
I tried you know,
difficult as it was, I tried
But I just…
I couldn’t do it anymore.
I’m sorry I’m not as strong as I should have been
I’m sorry I fell apart from only half of what you’ve carried with you your whole life.
I’m sorry I can’t be for you what you were for me,
A rock, a shield….always there.
I’m sorry I was just another disappointment in your life,
Another should’ve been, but never will be.
But I just…
I couldn’t do it anymore.
You should know though, that I was always grateful.
Grateful to have you
Grateful for this mind
And even grateful for this heart that always felt too much
Gave its all but got none
It couldn’t do it anymore.
Even at this end, I have hopes
I hope that in all our time you felt my love.
I hope that in all our days you saw my gratitude.
I hope that in all my struggles you knew, knew that they were for you
And mostly I hope that with all these words
Written in blood, spoken through tears
That you understand my grief…
That you can feel my pain…
Because I need you to know
I want you to understand that I just…
I couldn’t do it anymore
I’ll hurt for you
I’ll stand here,
while you scream and punch
and I’ll take it.
I’ll take whatever you throw at me
because when I said through it all
through the dark clouds that surround you
through the coal that stings the soles of your feet
and the blood that drowns your lungs and muffles your screams.
I meant it when I said
through it all.
You want to lose me.
It’s a dare, I see it in your eyes.
You want to prove that nothing beautiful can come from you
But it already has.
You loved me when I could not love myself.
You understood when no one else could.
Something beautiful did come from you.
We came from you.
I became, from you.
Now I will prove that something wonderful can come from me.
I will calm your fears,
and dry your tears.
With my love you will thrive.
I will cry your rivers for you.
Even cross them if you want me to.
I’ll do anything for you.
I will bare your pain, and heal those wounds,
that are engraved like runes
until you do not hurt anymore.
The sadness sits behind me,
a looming dark cloud ready to pour its showers.
It never leaves me.
It just sits and waits for when I stop pretending
and start comprehending
what it sees in me, that I hide from myself.
The loneliness looms over me,
ominous and foreboding.
It whispers to me,
visions of souls together, one in love
soaring like a dove.
I hope for it, but won’t fully believe in it.
This emptiness aches in me.
It’s a black-hole void with no escape.
I cannot laugh it away.
I can only wait for life or death to claim me.
They are the only things that could save me.
I can only wait for it to make sense.
These memories hold me hostage,
remembrance a painful bout of nostalgia.
The closing of eyes will not take them away.
The burning of pictures will not destroy them.
They are there forever,
ingrained in my soul.
The past stands before me,
angry and screaming,
“Wake up and LIVE!” while I sleep and dream.
My nightmare’s come to pass,
All that I hold will have me gone,
but for the sorrow in my reflection.
The future lays quietly beside me,
heaving sobs for what could have been.
“We were so ALIVE, you and I,” it sighs, heart heavy.
But I am no longer there.
Somewhere in the midst of it all
I was lost, never to be found.
I’m walking around with a protective casing
“You can’t possibly think less of me than I think of myself.”
That’s what’s carrying me today.
But what about tomorrow?
When your misperceptions
turn into my truths,
Will you wear my shell
like a medallion, on a chain?
Another one you’ve cut down to size?
Or will you adorn it
Protection from your ghosts?
They scare you,
so you haunt me
an outlet for all you could never be
Call me your martyr
because I’ll let you.
I’ll let you use me
to fight them off.
I’ll be nothing,
so you can feel something.
I’ll be the no one
who teaches you to be someone.
I’m holding this pillow tighter and tighter,
as if to meld into one with it.
Like it can somehow fill in this void, where I used to be.
I feel so underwhelmed by the sadness.
I feel as though I carry so much more of it inside of me,
untapped, untouched and unfelt.
I feel almost volatile.
Like the day is coming when this dull numbness in my chest will be
lit like a match in nitroglycerin,
and everything will come down in explosive flames.
I don’t want it to be later though.
I want it to be now, because the worst torture,
the illest of feelings for me,
has been this feeling of nothingness.
This black void is aching
in a way no other pain ever has,
and probably ever will.
I long for that sadness that I have more than once forsaken,
because it felt more like living,
in emotion, in heart and in soul,
more than this emptiness.
My tears run cold.
There’s no emotion to heat them,
just icy coldness right in the centre of my bosom.
I hate this.
I hate it more than any ache I’ve ever felt.
I don’t want to be empty.
I want to be full again.
Whether it’s happiness or utter sorrow,
I will take it
because I know I can’t choose.
But suffer me to feel something other than this
blankness of soul,
void of heart,
and screaming of mind.
Give me something.
The worst kind of suffering.
The kind of suffering where the misery exists but goes unfelt.
What is that?
Is that even life?
Or is it just part of a game?
Amusement for some deity in the sky?
A Pointless game.
Suffer me to feel,
or suffer me to die.
But I’d rather not live so empty a lie.
The silence echoes around me
The darkness whispers to me,
“Who are you in this dead of night?
Are you the same person you were in the day?
Or has that façade fallen away?”
I want to say,
“Love me, and it will be enough”
But “enough” would mean there’s a limit to my endless need.
I want to tell you,
that your arms are all the protection that i need
But I can’t .
Because what haunts me cannot be fought off with fists.
I want you to win the battle for my heart.
You won’t though,
because it’s a war
you’re ill-prepared to fight
Though you don’t,
I need you to see that
I’ve become too good at hiding.
Will you find me?
Or did I lose you?
Was I broken?
Did I break you?
You were what I wanted,
I was never what you needed.
I didn’t know I was taking
more than you were giving
I see now
that you were trying to fix
what can never mend.
I knew then
that I should have let go,
but I held on too tight still
because you were my rising sun
while I became the falling of your dusk.
We were never meant to be
it took forever but now I see
that door has closed,
your heart has shut
you leave me here
lonely and in a rut.
Look how the rain falls
it gives life but goes unnoticed.
Watch how the sun rises
Everyone knows it’s there because it’s the loudest.
I am like the rain.
I fall to my knees and rise again, unseen.
They are like the sun.
Their piercing cries are all I hear, so I fight to make them disappear.
You see self-inflicted scars
I see a self-documented tapestry
Of all the things I have felt
You see blood,
I see scarlet toned paint
Telling all that I have been through but never said.
You would feel it as pain,
I feel it like life
Proof that more than breath is what I’m capable of.
It will heal like shame, but
I’ll remember it as a note
A reminder for when I have forgotten my strength.
Come find me.
I’ll be at the end of my bed,
Waiting to feel like something,
Waiting to feel like someone.
Failure has stripped me of all my dignity.
It’s taken from me my freedom.
I’ve nothing anymore but to live on what I’m allowed.
Live on what I’m told.
To grow up was a dream.
To be here now is a terror of the night.
I’m raw from screaming,
I’m hollowed out from crying.
Why can’t the night stay?
I know nothing is forever,
And people always leave.
But why can’t the moon stay like I need it to?
I need it to cloak me in darkness.
I need it to hold the sun down while I pick myself up
And dust myself off
The starkness of the feeling was like
black on white or
neon in the dark.
She was suffocating.
It felt like unexpected contact with a flame,
or a sudden flood to the lungs.
There was no way to miss that it was there.
It just was and she had to feel.
She had to deal with the clawing ache,
And the pressure of a life and a soul that could never coincide
like she was water to lungs, where only air was supposed to reside.
She had to deal because even though it was never her intention,
to end it took a courage she could never mention.
She could never harm what didn’t belong to her.
Yes she was her own,
But she was born from another.
She was alive because of her mother,
and she owed her her life, at least.
So she stayed,
Chained like a slave
To the dragging of her life
Loathing every day
Weeping away all of her nights.
It was a cage with no escape,
no hope and
Just endless restlessness
She could never fight.
You’ve martyred yourself for too long.
You’ve lain down your sword,
only to have them step over you as though you were nothing.
It’s time to rise like the warrior you were born to be.
It’s time to stand and fight for what you are and what you believe.
Show them the strength you’ve muted at their feet.
The people that have loved me have loved me well,
so unbelievably true.
So why then is this fickle heart still in search?
because she’s looking for what isn’t hers,
what belongs to others,
that she never deserved.
For all the disparaging remarks I make,
I do love you.
I only blame myself for never giving you the chance
to be who you were meant to be.
I hated you for not being who they wanted you to be,
but that was by no fault of yours
it was mine.
With every day and every minute
you’re teaching me to accept you for
and the gentle soul
With every month and every year
you’re getting stronger.
You’re fighting me for all the wrong choices
I’ve made for us
and you’re showing me who you can really be.
I could never hate you for that.
I can only love you all the more.
My only crime was to love you.
And love you I did.
It was in the way I smiled from the soul with you.
The way my heart wrapped itself around you
and held on tight.
My only sin was that I adored you.
And adore you, I always will.
It will always be in the sad glint in my eyes
when you walk by with someone else
hands held tight.
My only vice was the way I needed you.
I need you, still.
You drew me out when the darkness shrouded me.
You held me close when the loneliness captured me
But now I’m lonely again.
My only plea is to be loved again.
The way that I thought you loved me.
The way I could swear I will always love you.
The only way that could heal this broken heart.
My only plea is for you to return
your heart to me.
Morning glow falls on quiet streets.
Most are waking from peaceful sleep.
But not me.
My eyes aren’t fresh to the morning,
as the faces of the now waking.
My eyes were awake.
Watching in the night while others dreamt of the day.
These eyes that saw with the heart, the horrors of the world
While to the rest breaths came steady, blinding them with sleep.
I lay sleepless.
A shepherd of countless sheep.
I stayed watching as midnight terrors danced in mirrors
Showing fears so deeply buried
I bleed tears and
I cry blood.
No cut goes ungrieved
And no pain aches unbled.
My anguish is marked by scars on my skin and
My wounds are viscerally felt.
They flow blue in me,
Like rivers carrying liquid full of life.
They dare me to drink from them.
Just a drop to ease my trouble and strife.
As I lift my silver chalice,
Ready to drink from the ebb,
The sharp tang of a lie bittersweet on my lips
Tells me, “It will be okay.”
Just a drop will satiate this burning ache.
It will put out the fires in my mind that refuse to die
And sedate my heavy soul.
Still, they whisper, “It will be okay.”
You ask me why I do it?
Because when my insides are aflame
And my heart is atrophic
It becomes my only distraction.
There’s not a moment’s reprieve,
So this is my solace.
It is my catharsis,
The reassurance that I need.
It proves that life still flows in me,
Though dead is all I feel.
Like the these engravings will eventually heal,
It tells me that someday, it will be okay to feel.
You don’t need to be here.
You could be with the stars
And yet here you are, with me
For all my inadequacies,
I feel most (un)deserving of
When I say I love you,
It won’t ever be a lie.
It could never be,
Because when I loved you then
I did so fiercely and truthfully,
My whole being laid bare.
That kind of love doesn’t just dissipate.
This kind of love won’t ever cease.
When I say it now it will be different.
It will be distant,
Because when I neared you with trust,
You threw my shortcomings at me
And put your baggage between us.
I could have fought for you.
I would have fought for you.
I just could never fight against you.
All I feel is damaged
Pieces of me lay scattered all around,
one for him,
and one for her.
One for the one who is yet to come.
I’ve hurt for a thousand.
I have felt for a million.
I have cried for too many,
but never for myself.
I’ve dreamt their dreams.
I’ve woken to their terrors,
I’ve lived their lives a dozen times over,
But never have I lived mine.
I’ve picked up your jagged pieces
And put them together
This blood and these scars – littered on my hands -
are proof that
I’ve used pieces of me to fill in your spaces.
Now you’re whole but I’m left in pieces.
It’s gone dark in my world again.
For a while it looked like i would see the light.
For a moment it looked like the sun was ready to break the horizon, finally.
But just as it was about to, the moon took its place.
I’m in darkness again, just like I was before.
It may even be darker this time because I know now.
I know now that regardless of what I try to believe, there won’t be an end to this eternal void.
I know because I watched hope start to take over.
I cheered from the sidelines wishing against knowledge that it would win.
And then I watched it fumble.
In a moment of weakness that hope crumbled to nothing
and the dawn that was breaking turned to a midnight blue
with not a single light for a guide.
It’s pitch dark again.
I hope that one day hope will take me again.
I have faith that one day hope and I will realise what dreams and happiness mean.
I hope the sun will come up again, one day.
Do I like rain because like me,
it screams so loud,
wanting to be heard and
needing to be acknowledged?
Do I feel it so much because like others,
it drenches through my soul,
leaving me heavy
and weighed down?
Do I need it so much because like tears,
it touches something within me,
fills me with emotion then
washes it all away?
Do I want it or
does it need me
to feel accepted?
What is it to drown?
It feels a lot like being smothered.
The breath is stolen from you,
and while you fight for life,
everyone around you remains unbothered.
It sounds a lot like white noise.
Piercing screams and shrill cries
that go unheard
while you feign poise.
It looks a lot like empty eyes.
They reflect a vacant soul
whose demons have won
and whose will eventually dies.
It tastes a lot like saline tears.
Salty like the sea,
their depths as cold and blue
as the loneliness that leers.
To drown is to sink.
The more you fight the deeper you fall.
It’s not a nightmare or a kink.
It’s trying to float while shackled to an iron ball.
Sometimes I see things.
I call them the imaginations of a feeling mind.
They’re alternate realities of what people want others to see.
Some call it intuition.
I call it fabrication.
Because how can I see something that is concealed?
It is in the twitch of a smile,
the narrowing of the eyes
that I see this hidden reality.
And then it haunts me.
It haunts me like the pain were my own.
It keeps me up at night as though the burden were mine to bear.
I call them imaginations, but how can that be?
How can fabrications break my heart?
How can a conjuring stutter my breaths?
How can these fabrications steal my sleep
And rule my heart
If they are not real?
Oh how cruel life was.
It wouldn’t let her run when she begged for release from its chains.
Days were spent on her knees
in constant prayer for life’s most permanent reprieve.
But it held on tight,
claiming her as a prisoner of a war she was never a part of.
Then one day,
as sudden as waking,
the sun was shining and her soul was singing.
The rain had stopped and bells were ringing.
They told of all that she had been through to arrive here
at this place of happiness.
As sudden as her waking
it was in that moment’s contentment
that her earlier prayers were given answer.
An answer she no longer ached for.
One she realised too late she no longer wanted.
Yesterday I cried.
For all that was broken
Long before its wounds began to bleed.
I cried because
I had become regret’s token.
Last night I was still crying
For the empty space in my bed
And the warmth that was no longer there.
I cried because
Love was dead.
Today I am still crying.
I cry for morning’s promises coming undone
and the pledged relief not delivered by dawn.
I cry because
Healing never came with the rays of the sun.
Tomorrow I will cry.
and all that weighs me down like rocks of reality
dragging me to the depths of my tears
and drowning me in my fears.
I will cry because my dreams
Sit on a shelf.
They were replaced by a life that was never mine
and a threat to tow the line.
Until I’m free.
They say that showers of rain bring blessings.
These are the lessons,
passed on from one believer to another.
The faithful leading the faithless,
though who’s to say it’s not futile practice?
I danced in the rain once.
I hoped to catch those good things,
cupped in my hands.
The faithless trying to be faithful.
A non-believer playing at believing.
What I caught in that rain was viral.
It spread through me like fire in my veins.
Only bad things followed,
an antithesis to those blessings,
a non-believer almost believing.
That rain was acid,
toxic and destructive.
Where are those blessings faith had promised?
blindly led to believing the unbelievable
So are we done now?
Can I pack into a body bag
My emotions and feelings
And move out of this haunted house?
May I leave now?
Will you let me go this time?
No post-mortem conversation
To rehash this dead relation.
Do you see now?
What I tried to tell you before?
How I’m no good and
I’ll leave you bleeding on the floor?
Can it be over now?
Can I walk away and not look back?
Will this thrashing guilt die at the gates of hell, finally
Or will I carry it eternally?
I need to feel now.
For so long I have felt so little
Even when I saw your cadavered feelings,
I was numb and only left you reeling.
It’s the end now.
You’ve tried not to fight this battle
But only I can call the ceasefire and I won’t until your name is written in my book of casualties
Because I’ve mongered this war for far too long to lay my heart down at another’s feet.
I have worn myself in black.
Dark and hidden out of sight.
Afraid to be seen,
exposed like nerves,
it could never end well.
I have seen myself in grey.
Shrouded and cloudy,
drawn like curtains,
concealing what’s within,
blocking what’s with-out.
I have heard myself in blue.
Sad and sombre,
a melancholic tune,
no harmony with it,
I have felt myself in rainbows.
in oranges and yellows,
other times desolate
in violets and blues.
In all the times I speak in purple.
Regal and passionate,
about things they could never understand,
in dialogue they can never translate
a language only I know.
It will always just be me
holding myself together
while the world around me crumbles and falls.
While everything I know burns to ashes,
it will always just be me lying on this floor,
my arms holding my legs to my chest to keep my heart from bleeding out.
As the world moves around me and
the earth continues to spin on its axis
I’ll always be here, all alone, breathing tears as though they are oxygen.
Life doesn’t stop for pain.
It only keeps moving
while I weep for it to stop and notice that it’s left me far behind.
All my light has left me…
I’ll let the darkness of the night hold me
as life moves ahead faster than I can grasp,
I will lay here, alone, holding my broken pieces in my bloodied and scarred arms.
Life will go on
and tomorrow I will wake, and go with it.
I want to be mean.
I want to be so mean. I want to hurt them all.
I want to hurt them the way that I’m hurting.
I want to dress my love up in a back-handed comment,
I want to make it up in snide advice
And reflect it in a mirror of, “you’re not good enough”
I want to cut out my mangled heart and hand it to them
I want to say, “here, take it,” because it’s all I have left.
They’ve taken everything else.
I have nothing more to bare
I have nothing more to give.
All I have is pain, anger and resentment.
They can take that too.
They can take my life,
They can take my soul
I don’t want them anymore.
I don’t want this anymore.
I don’t want ME anymore.
It’s nothing I can rightfully blame you for.
It’s just me, always having one foot out the door.
You’ve done little wrong.
I just can’t stay happy for too long.
No, there’s nothing you could have changed.
Nothing you could have rearranged.
I would have still run.
There’s nothing you could have done.
The only thing that needs changing,
Is this heart’s constant aching.
I have to work from within,
To calm my inner din
So I can finally hear
All the loving calls clear.
Only time can own us
For time takes
And time gives.
Time will take:
But time will give:
Time will withdraw
And it will deposit
Write me into your dreams and let me live there
Being everything you imagined, because in reality I could never be.
Speak me into your thoughts and let me breathe there
Because in your arms the air was always too thin.
Take me into your soul and let me die there
Because in truth I die alone
And I’d rather I lived with you.
Why can’t I speak my pain into words?
I want to stand on a soapbox and proclaim my fears,
But when I go to part my lips I’m choked by the tears
And the words take flight like birds in fright.
I’m stopped every time by terror.
Afraid to be so open and reveal my darkness
Because I lack the light I could never harness.
All I own is this dark night that lacks light.
So I lie in my bed and choke instead,
On the words that go unsaid
And the pain the goes unbled
Because somehow this silence and these walls
have held me tighter through my falls
than any person that I have known.
So when the garden goes up in flames
and the flowers that remain are maimed,
what will be left of us?
Will we burn with it, drenched in cinder?
Or be refined by it – a beauty too pure to hinder?
Everything we were was but ashes to smoke.
That fire made us with the blows it dealt us.
We didn’t die from it,
we survived through it.
We were revived by it.
Every year another war wages,
another blazing fire rages
and another piece of me
falls at the feet of the things I could never be.
Every month is a battle,
just one in a cycle of 12 that’ll
replay like a constant refrain
tearing into open wounds again and again.
Every week is a struggle
when everything is a muddle
You fight to stay alive
And just barely survive.
Every day is without mirth
When you regret your own birth
And you hope it will all cease
To give you just a moment of peace.
Still, every year you try.
Even through the tears that you cry
You push against the tides
Only just making it to the ides.
In a year it will all start again,
And still in this cavern you’ll remain.
In a year you’ll wonder
(like every year before it)
How you could still be standing
To see another one ending.
I can tell my truth to the night.
I can bare it all, naked and vulnerable and not be ashamed.
The shadows stay and listen as I stand under the streetlight and proclaim my deepest fears, no matter the bloodshed.
The day is so much more difficult to navigate.
I need to dress the ugliness up in bright smiles and cheerful greetings
Because the day and its people don’t care for pain.
You carry yourself like your vastness scares you;
like your depths and their darkness could consume you.
You worry that a touch or a word could break you,
But you should know that you are not volatile for all your feeling.
You are not nuclear for all your caring.
Your heart has not stopped beating though it may feel dead.
Your soul is healing, though it may feel ravaged
and all hope is not lost, though you may despair.
Your magic cannot be contained in brittle bone
and your spirit cannot be tamed into muted shades.
You are beyond what a mirror reflects and a visionless world dictates.
You are you in a way that no imposter could ever imitate,
or rival could ever best.
You are a creation unfathomable
and the protégé to greatness.
You hold in you the genesis of new worlds no other could create
and if you left you would take them with you.
I am a mess of things that never got cleaned up.
I am spilled milk on a white carpet, soaked through and softened:
You can’t see the stain but the tenderness is there.
I am burnt ashes on the hearth.
They are where they are supposed to be.
They played their part, provided warmth and now lay ready to be discarded.
I am a crayon drawing on the wall, once painted in happiness but now looked at in distaste:
a mark that does not belong.
I am unswept dirt on the floor:
Dragged in from miles and miles of memories, then stomped off in disregard.
I am a mess of these things – things that never got cleaned up.
But often messes are lessons we never look at with the appreciation they deserve.