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It slowly continues to argue with me day in and day out.
Like a creep following in the shadows,
it decides to elude me no matter how I feel.

As the mandolin plays its sad tune,
and the guitar only remembers the sound of minor chords,
the melancholy erodes the wall that has protected the people since birth.

Taking its time to analyze and devise,
making plans and biding its time.
The edge defines the lie that it says is inside.

Maybe the next ship will take me along.
Maybe it will sail farther away than the last one.
Maybe its anchor will drop on more pleasant shores.

As I scream at the city that has been my home for so long,
As I stare into its ugly face,
I no longer know which way to go.

Do I go to the harbor and board the boat?
Do I search for my creeper in the alleys and roads?
Or do I stay where I am and take heart to the fact that I am still taking breath?

Why are you staying by my side?
You should go.
Why are you still waiting with me in line?
Don't you have better places to be?

When the night is angry and the clouds block out the moon,
I wonder if it will find me?
When the weather is sour and the day looks like the night,
I wonder if it will find me?

Anyway, I choose you, stay by my side.
Any path I take you have loved me despite the tide.
Any time I wept you were there with me and you cried.

Why do you stay when I am in the fray,
When my anxiety shoots you like a gun,
or when my anger manifests and stabs you like a knife?

I look over my shoulder and the creeper is there.
Always ten paces behind no matter which way I twist and I turn.

I look over my shoulder and I see you coming up beside.
You're reaching for my hand and telling me to trust.

I close my eyes and let you guide me to where I should go.
I release any semblance of control.

The sun finally breaks the clouds and the creeper steps aside.
Still, ten paces behind but comfort are by my side.
The sun brightens my face and I begin to cry.
For the night was long and the day has finally come.

The day is finally the day,
and I can see the bay.
The boat is right where I left it.
I look to you and you say it's okay.
So we take our steps and board the boat looking for better shores where we can play.
Matthew Sabella Jul 2020
I can't believe that life is life.
I can't believe we are allowed to dive into this world where we live.
I can't believe I can take a breath every day and come out swinging.
I can't believe that in the future I might capture someone's heart.

I can't believe that one day I will be able to cuddle in close.
I can't believe that one day a touch, a shiver, a model of heavenly love will be next to me.
I can't believe that I am allowed to write about this, that my hands are free to practice their dexterity.
One day I will use them to their full potential.
I can't believe that today is not that day.

My arms will one day reach out for a hand.
A hand to dance close to.
Feeling the movement of the music and using her heart as the beat.
Cheeks slightly flushed from the moment, skin soft to the touch.
A warmth overtaking my body in the knowledge of the present event at hand.
I can't believe that today is not that day.

Lips that slightly part.
An approach going ninety and hoping they receive you and go the other ten.
Lips slightly apart.
Hearts beating a little bit faster, goosebumps cascading over limbs.
Lips slightly apart, waiting for this to be our last first kiss.
I can't believe that day is not today.

Walks hand in hand, listening to the music that we both agreed upon.
Walks hand in hand arguing over what music will be played.
Walking hand in hand making decisions together, making them with Heaven on the mind.
Walking hand in hand in the dark torment of my soul, letting her know I am inside of my head more often than not.
I can't believe that today is not that day.

I can't believe that life is life.
I can't believe we are allowed to dive into this world where we live.
I can't believe I can take a breath every day and come out swinging.
I can't believe that in the future, I might capture someone's heart.

First encounter, movement, bass lines, and drums.
A string quartet for the cheesy one.
Rhythm sections and complimentary instrumentation just going with the flow.
For the mistakes of live music is what makes it beautiful.

And girl when I find you it is going to be beautiful.
Making music and making love.
Tracking the guitars across your abs.
Drinking coffee too late at night.
Sharing the thoughts I'm too scared to tell anyone except for God.

I can judge too much.
I can be set in my ways, and change is hard for me.
I'm going to make you crazy, my anxiety is going to get in the way.
But I can't believe that one day you will be there to handle me.
And I will be there for you.

Video games, and board games.
Movies, music, and tv too.
Reading books together and apart.
Being with friends and enjoying the moments apart.
Coming back together to keep moving past the start.

I can't believe I'm entertaining these thoughts.
I can't believe I'm allowed to doubt.
I really can't believe that I'm allowed to believe.
To believe in love, ***, and dreams.
To believe in warmth, security, and truth.
To believe in all the things that make me, me.

I can't believe that life is life.
I can't believe we are allowed to dive into this world where we live.
I can't believe I can take a breath every day and come out swinging.
I can't believe that in the future, I might capture someone's heart.

I can't believe that one day I will be able to cuddle in close.
I can't believe that one day a touch, a shiver, a model of heavenly love will be next to me.
I can't believe that I am allowed to write about this, that my hands are free to practice their dexterity.
One day I will use them to their full potential.
I can't believe that today is not that day.
Losing someone hurts, but I have to be hopeful even in the present pain and even if it hurts to think about a life with another.
Matthew Sabella Jul 2020
When fear comes in like a thief in the night,
When it grips your throat and lifts you up out of bed,
When your wandering eyes glimpse what your heart has been desiring for months,
When you give in to the temptation instead of looking to the breaker of chains,
This is when your faith is tested, this is when you see how weak you really are.

I sat and I listened.
I sat and I read.
I sat and I determined that I don't like being alone with my thoughts.
I sat and I realized I am scared of my own inner voice.

It caused me to remember past mistakes I wish were not in my head.
It caused me to miss someone even more than I already do.
It made me realize I am not dependent on my maker enough.
But at the same time what is enough?

Can you love enough?
Can you pray enough?
Can you read enough?
Are we ever enough?

In this world we are going to make mistakes.
We are going to hide from the ones we love.
We are going to be present and listen to them.
In this world, it is a dichotomy of light and dark.

When the fear comes and when it takes hold, what do I do?
Do I sway to the left or do I sway to the right?
Which side is the correct path?
Is either way correct?
Do I just need to sit, listen, and pray?

When I enter into the presence, I hope it is enough.
For when I pray those uneven, and negative thoughts creep in.
I get too scared to pray, I get too scared of change.
I am scared of these thoughts, I am scared that they will never go away.

It's *****,
It's messy,
It's a time where sin takes your faith hostage,
But at the same time, it strengthens your faith and requires you to quiet your soul.

Uneven, broken, failures, and grief.
Hope, joy, and relief.
A mix of who I am who I want to be.
A love that passes all understanding,
One that can cure the wound that doesn't seem to ever get clean.
Matthew Sabella Jul 2020
I moved a year ago today.
I moved because I had a girl who I kissed and hugged after a nap.
It was beautiful and I was warm.
I moved a year ago today to marry that girl.
But here I am wondering why God made it work out this way?

Am I vindicated in my loneliness?
Is the hurt that laces my veins worth it?
Is it time to forge forward and dictate all of this to prior events and let it all pass?
Because I know that it will happen one day, but right now my Heaven is my past.

The warmth slowly dissipated and the negatives became the norm.
I made mistakes that I knew I was making while they left my mouth.
I took on stances just to be right.
And my vices intensified despite my soul getting closer to the light.

I have moved closer to Hell while seeing more of Heavens' eyes.
I miss the warmth and the skin that I used to snuggle up next to mine.
My eyes see this as my personal anti absolution.
Or as I like to call it my personal Hell.

I moved a year ago today.
I moved because I felt God pulling me this way.
But now I don't know if it was Him or my own personal will?
For she is gone and Heaven has been tainted.

I wanted to be one so bad that it clouded my Heaven and diverted it to this Hell.
Did I lose my will to be me because I desired something that is always going to be beyond my influence?
For it is not my will that takes precedent, but God's.
So here I am wondering if God will make it work out today?

I was a man who clung to that which he loved.
To a family that he loved, the one that he wished he was still apart of.
Now I am clinging onto hope, to God.
To insecurities, to pain, to guilt.
I was a man who only had memories connected to the family that almost was.
Now I am trying to forge my own memories that are connected to me.

I wish naps ended with the waking to my one.
I hope God sees it in him to let this happen again.
I'm sick of searching.
I'm sick of being vulnerable to those who won't last.

I want to be one, with the correct one.
I want to be vulnerable again.
But I want it to be the last time.
God, what is the desire of my heart?
God let it be this.

I moved one year ago today.
Maybe a year from now I will wake up from a nap and see my one in my arms as I lay.
It's been a year since this new journey began. What is your will God?
Matthew Sabella Jun 2020
When it hurts it hurts.
When sadness grips my throat I let it linger.
I let the breath in my lungs dissipate.
Because why does it matter?

When it hurts it hurts.
When the air is leaving my body and memories flood in,
I don't care if I have no air.
The next best thing is the death of the old.

But the problem is whenever it dies and I have "Moved on" it's a lie.
I get dragged back in.
I somehow get breath back in my lungs.
And the past comes back to life.

Today was one of those days.
A photograph was found,
A feeling was ignored,
A day of hurt pursued.

When it hurts it hurts.
When the past is found
When the past is relived.
**** me and the edge that I get to.

I see over the cliff.
I see over the precipice.
I take the leap over and over again, but I keep ending up right where I started.
The past won't ******* die.

When it hurts it hurts,
And guess what?
Right now, in this moment,
It ******* hurts.

Sorry, mom and dad
Sorry, sensitive folks.
Sorry, for writing this down and putting it out in the world.
But right now I don't care.

I'll tag it explicit.
I'll tag it adults only.
But guess what?
Life is explicit even if you don't swear.

Because when it hurts it hurts.
When the truth is laid out before you, don't run from it.
Embrace the truth, the pain, the misery, the sadness.
Even if you try to ignore it, you can't.
Because when it HURTS it HURTS.

I want her back
I don't want to move on.

I don't want her back.
I want to move on.

I'll probably be better tomorrow.
But who knows?
I sure as Hell don't.
What I do know...

What I do know...

Sorry for the repeat I was really trying to find something to say there.

Oh I remember...

When it hurts it hurts.
Let me be,
Let me feel,
Let me not be home,
Let me be far away.

God, when it hurts it hurts and you understand.
God, when those photographs find their way to my eyes let me hurt.
It's not wrong to feel the way you feel.
I'm allowed to be sad.
Even if every fiber of my being is ashamed I haven't moved on.

When it hurts it hurts.
Let it be.
Leave me be.
Leave it where it is, so I can see.  

Matthew Sabella Jun 2020
Answer me, God.
Why won't you answer me?
What have I done that has caused your face to be turned away?
Answer me, my God.

My Lord, why have you forsaken me?
In this hour of need, I cry out in empty rooms.
In this hour, I cry to empty skies.
My Lord, my God why have you forsaken me?

Are you alive?
Do you still listen to prayers?
Do you still listen to your people?
Are we allowed to ask and receive?

God is your eyes still fixed on this nauseated land?
Do you still have ears to hear when we call?
Are you alive?
Are we worth listening to anymore?

My hands clasps books and philosophy trying to understand.
My feet walk in nature trying to see the beauty of your creation.
I don't understand why you say you love me.
I don't understand how this applies to those around me.

Answer me, God...
This silence is killing me.
Sometimes we question even our deepest of faith.
Matthew Sabella May 2020
Searching my thoughts for anything of substance.
Looking over my shoulder, wondering why it always feels like there is a shadow looming.
A presence that never gets much closer but is always there.
I hear the whispers it spews, and sometimes I believe them.

A laugh comes into the back of my mind.
A solid feeling that is anything but joy.
But a laugh escapes nonetheless.
It is then answered with a tinge of anxiety threatening to never go away.

The search continues, the failures pile up.
Grasping for one thing that feels like a win.
Trying to turn my own thoughts into bullets to shoot this empty heart.
Load the gun, I'm going to war.

I'm extracting the child in me who has been lost.
I'm hunting shadows that lurk in the woods.
I'm targeting the very nature of my soul.
Shoot to **** or nothing at all.

I'm pointing the gun and resting my finger on the trigger.
I'm ready to pull it.
I'm ready to find out if these bullets are enough to win this fight.
I take a step forward...BANG...Thump...

There's a light shining down on me and I keep seeing the faces of those I loved.
I hear crying and laughter.
Violens play sad songs and the sad songs are said to be a celebration of the soul.
Then I feel like I am being lowered down, and the world goes dark once more.

Tomorrow I'll try again.
Tomorrow I'll check my left and right before stepping forward.
But how can there be a tomorrow?
I feel a tap on my shoulder...

My skin turns into 60 grit sandpaper.
I hold my breath and I begin to feel cold.
The tap becomes a hand resting on my body.
My spine tingles and I feel breath in my ear.

The whisper is closer than ever before.
Who knew a shadow could touch you.
Who knew hope could turn so sour.
If I get out of this; tomorrow, I will put my time to better use.
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