Do you ever feel that twinge? When the hurt is so powerful that you unwillingly lose all hope, all strength and all sense of who you are and fall to your knees, head bending to the floor as your own arms come around you in a thoughtless uncomforting hug?
When the world around you is no longer there and you feel your own bones shifting inside you, caving in on itself your body is fully weak. All of your bones bend down like treebraches covering the heart that is threatening to come right out of your chest, drop into the endless pit, empty void that you cant see but is the ground.
Your skin is gone, you're a skeleton with your giant reaching bones caged around your loose swinging remaining heartstrings supporting your heart in place, tired of holding on, ready to let go, let everything fall.
Let your heart and the last inkling of goodness fade and be eaten up by your own misery, for its dry withered husk to disappear for good.
There are stray tears on your face from before, earlier, because you have nothing left in you anymore, no tears left to be expelled from either clenched closed nightmare reflecting eyes or wide open yet unseeing eyes.
Your body is shaking uncontrollably and at this point your mind is blank.
You laugh, because you have no thoughts, nothing to tie you back down to reality.
You laugh like a maniac because what just happened cant possibly be true, but is.
You're so angry at yourself, livid with your own faults and so beyond what mere humans call grief.
Agony is too kind a word for it.
You feel the call of darkness take over and you grab for whatever your hand may touch.
Harm.
Do yourself harm.
The body is all that's really left of you, all you have left to feel even though you cant actually feel a thing. At this point you're already gone.
The only thing to bring yourself out, to think, to feel an emotion that isnt completely pain, to drag yourself above the earth once again and witness the blood of your shame.
It makes you blink a few times, processing.
Back to earth it is calm, you're thinking again, you look around and see where you are, you never left.
Things fell apart around you but you never moved a muscle, aside to return clarity and then to clean yourself up.
Things are calm.
Everything quiet, peaceful.
Youre completely alone where you are.
But you've somehow found a way to fully accept and move on in a short amount of time.
You understand what you thought may never occur has finally, and you can remember.
You've experienced the world of emotions and survived.
You're sitting safe where you left yourself before the storm hit you. You contemplate all the damage around you, strong enough to walk again, ok enough to solve your situation with a clear mind.
Things may be healed now, things may be fixed or renewed.
Life goes on from this point a better day when you appreciate the regain of what you'd never actually lost.

Walking the well worn path into the woods

the sun setting with its last rays

fallen leaves litter the ground

trees whispering in the wind

telling secrets no one but me can hear.

Wading into the stream

fish swimming about

crystal clear

birds singing

crickets soon joining in

darkness.

I sit against a rock

my name etched in

my birthdate

todays date follows

the moon dancing on my face

stars always watching.

I fade away

into the air

gone with the wind

deep in the woods

where no one remembers a thing

And I shall return again, a single night for each year

forever I'm just another ghost.

The way our hands clasp perfectly, made by Him to fit
under His gaze, our meeting eyes, we must peacefully wait and sit.

The instant our lips come together all noise of the world remains silent,
our pacing hearts quicken together, deafening, muffling
a breeze swings in softly, calmly ruffling
his hair, as soft as the finest linen where we'll one day be wrapped up in each others arms.
I could read your darling face with enjoyment
as if it were like the sweetest of all psalms

The way you speak enchants me,
Gods love spills from your heart
and although it's not yet been forever
I know our souls will never part.

A basket of oranges by a seaside cliff, next to green leaf bearing branches, they lay below the still growing and soft creaking limbs of a healthy tree that did not bear them

Seagulls in the distance are chanting songs we may never understand.

Beneath the dark blue waters, seaweed of green, gold shades are carried in currents, forever drifting peacefully.

The enchanting yellow sun touching lightly to the very surface of the vast ocean, illuminating its circular reflection before it disappears in a sky for tomorrow.

Fish of various colors live lives we havent seen, scales glinting in the light above as they head deeper down below to the hidden treasures of the sea that only they are familiar to.

Small waves leaving gorgeous colorful shells upon sand until again they are stolen by the mischevious tide, then given away to yet another shore somewhere on the other side of the sea.

The blueberries are sweet,
And we are right there with tragedy.
I am eating this blue fruit,
And many people are nervous.
My blueberry bowl is nearly empty,
I can see smoke covering the sky, blocking the sun rays and masking the air with a death stench.
There are no blueberries here anymore,
There are no people here anymore.

We are mere humans,
Scrapbooks of skin.
We each, like a light, blink and fade out in time.
Our skin, rotting,
Memories, trapped in a lifeless skull,
And our bones will all be abandoned one day in the earth
Our Graves are long forgotten, falling with time.
Paper memories in a slowing brain.
An unwritten book that ceases to exist the moment we do.

Is it strange to you that I've kept each and every single flower I've gotten, from any person, since the first?
Roses, carnations, and the likes...
Honestly, there aren't a lot, but I don't care.
They all still have a hint of sweetness to them.
They're all lined up along the rim of an old roll top desk, positioned in an almost awkward manner.
Of course, they're long dead, have been for many many years, it's not even sad.
Sitting silently in their empty vases, layers of dust coat dark petals and cobwebs just barely reach down to meet them.
The very same vases they originally thrived in have now become their personal caskets.
They are beautiful ghosts, withered and forgotten by whoever sent them.
I look at those pretty dead plants as much as I can.
It helps me manage and only reminds me that there is still beauty in death.
These lifeless corpses are still gorgeous, and maybe I will be like them one day.