“Write what disturbs you, what you fear, what you have not been willing to speak about. Be willing to be split open.”
— Natalie Goldberg, Writing Down the Bones: Freeing the Writer Within 54 followers / 1.3k words
Why can't I feel? I used to experience joy, love, happiness Now I'm just numb. I've created my own box. I try to tear it down, But... anger, coldness, and a blank nothingness seals up the cracks.
He runs in straight path towards a brick wall No real danger likely, for he knows the detours Yet she drops everything and runs Until her shoes fall off and her feet start to bleed, skin chafed by the concrete Willing to give up everything for him Why?
Time We all have it But in different amounts Some lack it Others waste it We all abuse it What's there to do with it? Time What do we have to say for it? Time, we all share it It can bridge the gap Or burn the bridge forever Unless... Time... what will we do with it?
Wait for me While I find the missing pieces And put them together again Wait for me When I force the raw jagged edges To fit in a crooked disheveled mess And please, just wait When I tell myself It's as good as new And that nothing has changed Just keep on waiting Until I make myself believe.
My world before you was merely black and white shadows blurred lines, indistinct shapes I knew not the meaning of clarity but You brought a brightness to a world without hope without depth or meaning You filled the empty spaces colored between the lines until I could see an unassuming picture transformed by color.