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  Jan 2015 aimee s
melodie foley
10w
***** tastes better than the thought of you and her
aimee s Jan 2015
So here's the scene:
11:30p.m. on New Year's Eve;
A bedroom, dimmed lights,
And me—in bright pink pyjamas
Which looked completely ridiculous
With my hair and skin.
Life tip: Gingers and bright pink?
Best avoid.
In fact; I don't know why
I was wearing it in the first place—
I don't even like bright pink.
Anyway;
Whatever.

This is not the point.

The point is me;
Sitting at my desk
And writing in my journal
About how emotionally crippling
The past year had been;
Hoping I’d wake up to a better tomorrow—
Only to find the same harsh reality,
Over and over.
And God! What a toll it took on me:
Mentally, physically and spiritually—

When it happened.

It, like a large invisible hand,
Slapping me hard across the face and shouting:

Are you done being miserable?

And maybe that was all I needed to hear.

Once I read that perhaps
You couldn't decide to be happy,
But you sure as hell could decide to be miserable.
And maybe that was one of the truest things I have ever read—
Because that was exactly what was happening.

There is only so much that medications can do,
And only so much that a person could advise,
When your mind is set on:
I don't want to get better.
I don't deserve to get better.


And that’s when I saw it:
A tiny spark,
That was always there but for some reason
I had decided not to see.
And in that moment,
It filled my eyes with blind hope
And I decided:

I am going to let it happen.

I deserve to be happy.


I went to bed that night;
A small smile on my face
And this tiny spark still glowing so bright inside of me.
And that’s when I heard it.

When all was still, except for
The air that filled my lungs,
And the beating of my heart
In synch with the rhythm of the universe:
I heard it.

It was a purpose.
My purpose.
  
It has only been a few days now,
But I know I was right.
Positive.
Because I’m doing okay.

It’s not that I have gained immunity to pain,
Or that some magic has been endowed upon me:
It’s just that I’m not afraid of hurting any more.

And that's just it—
The simple story of how I’ve come to learn,
The most important lesson I have ever learnt, to date.
  Dec 2014 aimee s
Monique Olivier
in the middle of the night
when everything is at its quietest

i feel a tug at my hair
i feel a nudge in my side
i feel the pull of my hand
i feel a restlessness in my body

something is calling me
a distant land or perhaps a forgotten muse
something is calling me

and i cannot wait to answer
aimee s Dec 2014
J,
I painted a picture of the deep blue sea today.
Mrs. A said she loved how I put the sea in the shape of a sphere
Going from a deep sapphire, to a light cerulean,
Until it reaches an inky blackness in the middle.
Such art.

I said thank you.

I didn't tell her about your blue eyes,
And how they reminded me of the sea.
And the air and the heat,
And the earth and life.

I didn't tell her how it feels,
When your eyes glaze over me
Like my soul carries no body.

E asked me this week
If I still collected sharpeners,
Before she whispered about how you got engaged.

I'm so happy for you.
Honestly:
I'm so happy for you it hurts.

I think she wished I hadn't heard her.
I bought more sharpeners that day.

I saw Dr. O yesterday.
She asked me if I still heard your voice
When everything's dead at night.
I know you're not wondering:
But I do.

She asked me if I'm taking my meds,
And sometimes I don't want to,
And sometimes I just want to take them all at once,
But I said I did.

She asked me about the letters.
I told her I filled my fifth box that day.

She told me to stop,
Because they weren't doing me any good.

That's why I wrote you a poem today.
I hope you don't mind.

I saw you with her this evening,
And your family,
And her family.
That's a lovely ring.

I know you're doing well,
And I know you're loved.

I hope you will always stay golden.
Really. I mean it.

Happy Holidays.

— The End —