Don’t adore me

She let them walk beside her, but she couldn't let them in.
Not since that first one, who'd crawled under her skin.

She did give in from time to time, even let them lay by her side.
Her body wrapped around their skin but her love she had to hide.

Their attempts to adore her, made her heart grow further cold.
As she'd known from that very day, that alone she would grow old.

My broken heart that saved my life....

I've learnt to love my broken heart with every atom of my being.
It has become my best friend.
It has been with me since my childhood and become my only constant, my only go to, my only place tucked away for only me to feel.

It enabled my quiet side, my deep, unwavering pensive and wounded side.
A side, that without it, would never have lead me along my life path. Collecting tools along the way that now prove so valuable, that I know the best is still to come.

It broke me into a thousand pieces, sliced me up and left scars so deep that I had no choice but to embrace it, snuggle it up and with my soul for guidance, quieten a pain so powerful, that it had manifested in a long term physical disease. But this dis-ease, I have recently learnt to live with and slowly reduce, day by day.

A dis-ease that I feared would define me, wrap itself around me so tightly, that I would splutter and choke and surely die.

This disease has, unbeknown to me, regularly pushed me to my limits.
It has tested my strength and my power until I'm exhausted and heavy with darkness.
A disease that boasts anxiety, addiction, extreme constant pain and popping joints and limbs. Fatigue, dyslexia, dyspraxia, brain fog, and depression, plus an entire resume, full of equally delightful ailments.

But I am a fighter. I am strong. And I can beat it.

Me and my broken heart have teamed up once again.
But this time we are knowledgeable, we have gifts and we are brave beyond my wildest dreams.
We are compassionate, we are loving. We have matured. And we are on our way to helping heal the world. Starting from within.

I have a fire in my heart that will never permit me to give up. It is what keeps me from deep waters, deeper pockets and heavy stones.

There is a white light that fills every inch of my mind and body at any time I need it. I could drown happy in its warmth.
Each morning and evening I soak up this light, and I am still.

I am the luckiest person I know. Because I won’t let life beat me.

Love is the answer!

Heart sinks and smiles

How can it be, that tears can arrive so quickly, that they burst out from you like an explosion from behind coloured glass?

From reading some beautiful words, coming from a heart so deep, that it almost feels they wrote from the very heart that lies heavy, within your very own soul.

How can another being from this same and too often unbearable life, create a page that mirrors yourself all too well?

How can the heart sink and smile simultaneously? As the knowing that you're not alone, warms you in a way that it probably shouldn't.

How can two people live separately, but with the same dark pull, that will almost indefinitely keep them alone?

Trying to understand the 'How' would be insanity itself.
Keep feeling, keep writing, stop pushing it back, and learn to live with it.

Another night in
Another night alone
Watching MAS*H 4077
Writing poems on my phone

I wonder which episode is next
off by heart I know every one
Sobriety trying it's best to convince
That I'm sitting here having fun

So if you're going out to a pub or a bar
Please raise a glass for me
I'll stay home and mime the words
Admire my tan from my glowing TV

Discovering Dauphne

Reading Du Maurier as my mother once before me

I feel cheated that in my midlife
This now my first discovery
I weep at the complex beauty within the first page
I read and re-read and re-read and again
I want these letters that form these words to penetrate and reside within my soul

I feel saddened for my lack of knowledge
For my laziness and lack of wanting to escape through words in my previous years

I feel anger for the years of substance use to take me out of myself
Why has Daphne been kept hidden I ask?
She understands me!
If there is she, then more alike there must be.

I leave regret, usually, for those who don't understand it's teachings
With Du Maurier I experience a new and crippling regret
I feel betrayed by anyone who has lived within her words, her worlds and yet kept her hidden from my unquenchable thirst

At least time seems to be slowing down in my 'almost there' sobriety
More hours appear each day
to be filled between the sheets of each turning page.

Hello new world