It's when you're in love.
With someone, something, somewhere.
You give your heart, your soul, your needs, your dreams, your memories, your time, your laughs, your eyes, your mouth, your everything.
It is accepted.
Then thrown to the floor.
Shattered.
Right there in front of you.
With full eye contact the whole time.
A smirk in place.
Laughter, even.
You are dumbfounded.
Why?
What was that?
What was that?
The trust is gone.
Your heart commences breaking.
It eats itself.
Your hands bleed.
Your hair falls.
Your mouth is shut.
Your fingers are cut off.
Your stomach is exposed.
Your thighs cut open and hollowed.
Your knees broken like eggshells.
Your feet peeled inch by inch.
Your toes yanked out recklessly.
Your toenails split in half, each one.
What are you now?
Who are you now?
Where are you now?
When will you be whole again?
You
are
destroyed
mutilated
broken
distorted
You are done.

Never knowing exactly what to suspect, I creep into your new found light, your new found ray of warmth and cautiously, I lift my face towards it.
Basking in the ambiance, I ignore the piercing inner cries of self-defeat.
You have taken and abused so much from me.
No more.
This is mine and I plan on feeding every inch of my care, my value, my emotions into it.
The time has come to rise against and shun that which is not true.
*You never know until you find out.

Awaiting the arrival of a new day, emotions fluctuating ceaselessly. Cross legged on my fortress, I smile and stretch as my mind is full of linguistically witty poetry of Mr. Ohara.
Perhaps tomorrow shall  be a brighter day with new promises and feelings that will bring me temporary relief.
Temporary relief seeing as nothing is ever permanent. It's the darnedest thing, isn't it?
The uncertainty of it all.
We learn to accept.
We learn to keep going on.

Cluttered, overwhelmed, what is left but total despair?
Try not to blow things out of proportion... but nothing is being blown.
This is the harsh reality.
Stoop down to my level. Try grasping the amount of pain in my being.
For once, take into consideration my emotions.
I'm done trying to make the best of things. Even then it did not turn out being enough.
Now is it clear how much I tried before?
Even when it was said that no effort was given?
Now i'm not pleasing you or anyone else and that, that is beginning to show its true colors.

You call my name and in an instant I feel comforted.
It is you for whom my heat yearns.
Still, I brush off the yearning and feed it second hand knock-offs.
Pulling away as if there is something I fear. Protection and safety satisfy this longing at times but this too will diminish soon.
Love is not the appropriate term, for I love sounds, phrases, words and sights. But none bring me the joy and relief that you're voice alone can bring me.
Alas, what does one murmur to oneself when trying to fathom your splendor?
Love does not and will never suffice.
Perhaps one day I shall be able to grasp what it is that you do to this ever beating, yearning, muffled heart of mine.