I keep stepping on-
until little pieces of me fly away.
The men roll up in tanks.
The men ahead dig you out.
They scope and scan, searching for any trace.
I follow behind.
I know your tricks, your graces,
the graves you dig.
I was all whole.
Until I stepped on your landmine.
Now I am pieces-
and learning to sew.
sometimes you fall in love with the wrong person.
sometimes your heart betrays what your mind already knows.
sometimes you see what you want to see instead of what is actually there.
sometimes you fall for a fraud.
a sleight of hand,
do not blame yourself.
self-hatred only digs the hole deeper in your aching soul.
it is a lesson.
teaching you to rely on yourself more,
to listen to your body, your mind, your being.
be afraid to love again.
the biggest lie in the world
is that recovery means learning to trust again.
recovery is learning to trust yourself again.
let others come into your fold,
not the other way around.
If I have loved you,
You were lucky.
Because when I love,
I love with every last bit of me.
From the roots of my hair to
the tips of my toes: I am yours.
I love fiercely.
My love is a rarity in these
But if you took my love
You will find that
It does have an end,
The brightest light in your life
will burn out.
Your soul will be lost
My love takes no prisoners.
Someone comes along. They put a large band-aid on you. To help your wounds heal. That same person comes and rips it off. Then, when your wounds are worse, they come along and put a new band-aid on. Then, they start to pull that band-aid, slowly. One little piece at a time. So slow you can barely tell, except for a quiet throbbing. But finally, the last piece is removed and that someone disappears. Your wound is exposed. You are the same as before that person existed.
Why would I want to fit myself into someone else’s dream? Or force someone to take on mine? It either fits or it doesn’t. Jamming two puzzle pieces that look like they should go together doesn’t make them fit any better, and it ruins the picture. It also leaves those pieces out that do fit perfectly.
I can scream for you until my lungs give out.
I can long for you until my mind gives up.
I can reach for you until my arms collapse.
Wanting never breeds anything but disappointment.
Perhaps that’s for a reason.
Sure we could fall back into
satisfied smiles and
kisses so deep we fall through
My Lips were not enough
to hold you close,
My Thighs were not enough
to make you want to live in them,
My Laugh not enough
to make you picture forever,
My Love not enough
to make you stay.
Doing the same thing over and over
expecting different results
is not insanity.
You weren’t there for the worst points
in my life.
Even blamed me before you knew the facts
And had to apologize later.
Weren’t even there for the ones you caused.
So why do I feel like I have to be there for yours?
The little masochist in me.
I have to feel this salty, gritty
Unfeeling sort of feeling-
nothing feels right
And the pieces don’t line up
but I feel you slipping, slipping away
and it sort of feels good, like letting go
but it rubs against the skin like wool
Music that is incongruous to you
I find that I find myself not even
Missing you at all
Is this a letting go, love
Is this the end?
Can I wake up without you on my breath?
Will tomorrow be smooth at the edges?
I think I feel better.
I can leave you in that alley.
Leave you alone by the light of the moon.
Forget your name.
Think I’m finally coming home.
The fear of books
I hear the fluttering pages
Of a turn being told
Of a princess being saved
Or old castles in the cold
I flinch as one opens
The fear of being deprived
Of my friends in reality
As I forget I am alive
Too lost in the story to tell
Which world is real or ink
As into the book itself
I slowly begin to sink.
I'm startled as I wake up
The fear being too much
The librarian tells me be quiet
'Quiet now, hush hush'.
-Gray (not original owner)