Posts Tagged ‘hurt’

My eyes are dry.

My lungs feel like wool sweaters

rolled and stuffed inside me.

Spine is slowly turning into the St. Louis Arch.

Bones stiff as flint.

Muscles like ink pens, exuding

pain from the inside, out.

I’m turning into cardboard.

I’ll be arthritic

before I’m twenty.

Wrung from my Eyes- tears-

shed with Love’s decay.

Spring blew forth a Spark,

which roared to Flame one day.

 

Sparks now dance in my Eyes,

the Flame within my chest-

I breathe, it rises,

and will until I- Rest.

O stuck Heart of mine,

you pine for the past-

can you not let go

of what was not meant to last?

 

There is no excuse, now,

not to pump Red to my cheeks-

I have grown cold, with you

behaving thus for weeks.

Of all the Wounds that

could be Undone-

if I had let my Heart

shine forth like the Sun-

Moving on is a funny thing.

At times it seems impossible,

but then you come to a place

where you can look back

and laugh. And you may not

be happy, but

you’re getting there.

And another realization

hits-

that it’s time to move forward

and stop looking back.

Put on a brave face for the new day.

Try to forget about the past

and ignore what people will say,

even though words

become weapons

so easily,

and all of the pain

remains part of your history.

You put on a brave face

for the new day.

“If pain demands to be felt, I say: welcome it, but don’t let it overstay its welcome.”- Original

“That’s the thing about pain…it demands to be felt.”- Augustus Waters, The Fault in Our Stars by John Green

“Each morning when the sun is shining, I look out the window and see how perfectly shaped the clouds are and how bright blue and inviting the sky is, and I fall in love with that morning. But the next day, I wake up and see that the sky is gray, and my heart is broken.
I think that’s why people become so wrapped up within themselves. We’re afraid to fall in love with things we know will break our hearts.”- Original

An iron wall,

a barricade,

a suit of armor

that doubles as a mask.

This is what we wear.

We put them around our minds.

We find comfort in our defenses-

blank-faced, revealing little

or nothing at all.

No one can see the fear,

then.

The fear of being hurt.

If we don’t let anyone past these boundaries,

we think we’ll never be harmed.

But the truth is,

they trap us

in our fear.

A letter

that shouldn’t have had

those things

written on it,

those venomous worms

of ink,

wriggling around: friend or

enemy, friend, enemy,

friendenemyfriendenemyfriendenemy.

Of course she had to stick her nose into this.

I can’t complain,

you can’t get away from her…

not yet. She is your mother after all.

A letter that shouldn’t have been sent.

Not with those words…

The song playing in my head

as I write this is

not yours:

“You always hurt

the ones you love,

the ones

you shouldn’t hurt at all…”

I wish you luck from afar.

Not with those words.

I’m not sure we’ll ever speak again…

not with those words.

Not with those words.