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from the mind of an anxious depressive

from the time i, as a little girl,
dressed up like a princess
[tiara and all,
pouffy, pink dress and all]
listened to my mother tell me
a fairy tale
of a woman who finds
her prince charming,
and is rescued by him,
and lives happily, happily ever after
in a magnificent palace by the sea…
and i, as a brooding teenager,
insecure and reclusive,
observed a
[now viewed as ridiculous]
romantic film
about a woman who finds her
one true Love,
and he rescues her,
and they live happily, happily ever after
in a beautiful three-bedroom home
where they raise two,
perfect children…
and i, as a young woman,
fully aware and adept,
recognizing the world for what it is
as *i
see it,
seeing love dismantle time,
and time again....

i am fully aware that nothing can possibly last for a happily ever after.

the doubt is consuming,
the wall is well-built and
unyielding.
my heart remains too crippled
to possibly endure the grief that
falling in Love elicits.

but,
Love finds you even if you have
given up the notion of it.
it gallops in on its white horse.
has bright blue eyes.
sparks a smile that can illuminate
my somber heart.
has no regard for my opposition to itself.
is selfish and greedy and exhausting.

it is utterly impossible to avoid
being seduced
into the black hole
from which i will never leave
precisely the same.
from which i will surrender
a piece of myself
essential to my functioning.

Love sweeps in like a tornado
[destroying everything in its path]
and so the five stages of falling in Love,
and falling apart,
begin.

denial.
i feign disinterest.
i pretend as if he doesn’t
engross my thoughts
as if my heart doesn’t encroach upon my stomach
when he enters the room.
if asked by a friend,
“why does your face turn bright red
when he dares to utter your name?”
i pretend like she is the insane one
[when i am the one denying my heart.]

anger.
i become enraged.
Love has taken control.
the knowledge that i let Love
dismantle the wall,
that i have spent years building,
and reinforcing,
[brick by brick, piece by piece]
infuriates me.
i let him gradually demolish it.
and now i am powerless and susceptible,
and now he has me by the heartstrings.
he holds me in his greedy palms.

bargaining.
i avoid the fact that i am falling,
yes, i am falling.
oh, so deeply for him.
i watch myself fall from such great heights
straight into the ground
crashing through to the
center of
the world.
i even pray to God,
the one i'm not even sure i believe in.
i tell Him that i would do anything,
anything just to take back control.
to have two firm hands on the wheel.
to be the driver
instead of the passenger.

depression.
i cannot bring myself
to shove off the covers.
to crawl out of bed.
i am miserable and helpless and
he is all i can think about.
he is my first thought
when i am awake.
my last when my mind
finally tires of him,
and i fall into a
fitful night of sleep.
yet, i do not tell him any of this.
he wonders why i am so distant,
so removed from him.
what he does not know is that
he carries part of myself with him
wherever he goes.

acceptance.
when my nerves have finally worn themselves down,
when my heart has reached an understanding with my mind,
when Love does not appear as something to be grieved,
that is when i fall in Love.

never once have i
accepted Love from a man,
Love that could alter
my melancholy mind,
nor have i trusted a man with my heart.
[although i have been forced by Love itself to relinquish it.]

i have been obstinate and headstrong
and refused to give all of myself
in fear of losing myself.
but maybe one day, i will be
rescued from myself.
I need to move on
it's time

You were the one for me
you were there for me
we shared our thoughts and dreams
I shared your bed
but now you're dead

I need to move on
I can't sit here any longer
talking to the air
pretending you're there
its simply more than I can bear

knowing you can't hear me
knowing you can't see me
knowing you can't feel me

I feel so hollow inside
too many tears I have cried

I'm lonely
without you here with me
just the four walls for company

I can't do it anymore
your death cut me to the core
this pain I can no longer endure

I will never love anyone else like you
but to find someone new
is what I want to do

It's time to *move on
Moving on after tragic loss
 May 2017 Elizabeth Gene
Victoria
What I have can’t be fixed by a doctor
How do you tell someone
“I don’t know where it hurts”
Or more accurately
“It hurts everywhere; where should I being?”
Because how do you tell someone that the pain of inadequacy
Mirrors a blow to the head in its intensity
But far surpasses it when it comes to longevity
And as far as timing is concerned
Every watch I’ve ever had has broken
So how do you tell someone that the lies are never easy
But the ones you tell to yourself crash over you like waves
And drag a small portion of you away each time they recede
It’s like a game of Them vs. Me
And what makes the defeats unbearable
Is the fact that they don’t even know they’re playing
I’ve been keeping score
And keeping score
And keeping score
The walls are filled with white lines
One
Two
Three
Four
Slash
Maybe if I point to my chest and say, “Here”
Someone will understand
It’s a pain that feels like everything I’ve ever wished for
Has solidified and turned to stone
Making a home somewhere in my ribcage
And it’s expanding
I write bravery on my skin because I have none
I make deals with  a god I know doesn’t exist
Just so when I’m unable to hold up my end of the bargain
I have someone to blame for falling through on his
And I still can’t figure out if it’s funny or sad
That the only man I want to kiss me never will
And the last one who did traded in his lips for his hand
So he can high-five me like we’re friends on the same team
Never making mention that we kissed on the floor of his room
Until we were breathless
While breakup songs played in the background
Taking up just as much space as we did
Became witness to our nervous hands fumbling over each other’s bodies
Turning our kiss into a *******
I have heard that silence speaks just as loudly as words
But silence builds up in my mouth like a traffic jam
And my jaw is begging to break from the weight
So maybe now’s the time to scream
Time to shout
Because I've been keeping all my thoughts filed away
Under the title, “When The Time Is Right”
But there’s no time like tonight
Young love,
Bitten by the Rose’s thorn
Giving the lovers’ their first blush
Powerful imagery stirring memories
Of first love, of true love

There was a time when
He would have suffered
Her pain as his own
So connected were they
That even in dreams they were one

Sadly, Rose’s thorn
Left its poison behind
And betrayal cut
Deep and true
Its ravaged scars
Leaving an indelible stain
Upon their souls

Bonds torn asunder
Young love’s blush
Turned scarlet red

How I yearn to warn the lovers
Of the Rose’s devious ways
Slyly infusing their love
With betrayal’s bitter pain

For in that moment
When they thought
Love was won…
Well, I guess that’s why
First love’s wound
Colors forever one’s love

Kelly Rose
© January 27, 2017

This poem was inspired by an image - The Thorn by Charles West.  Here is a link to the portrait is you wish to view it.
https://commons.wikimedia.org/wiki/File:CharlesWestCope-The_Thorn.jpg
 May 2017 Elizabeth Gene
Pixievic
In my dreams ..
You've kissed me
With such passion
My body shudders
In uncontrolled emotion
You've taken my soul
Into new dimensions
Every nerve alive
With forgotten sensations
You've painted my skin
Wth your carnal tongue
I'm a slave to your rhythm
My ecstasy sung
I'm caught in your touch
Imprisoned like a bird
In the cage of your presence
Captive I purrrrrrr
Filling my senses
With sweet erotica
Between my thighs
Waves of pleasure
At my very core
I quiver and flutter
On the edge of delirium
Gasping in utter
Wild abandon
Wanting and greed
I take you inside me
Moaning with need
I cling in desperation to
This exquisite fantasy  
Weaving enchantment  
Until eventually .....
I wake up lonely
Because you are only
In my dreams*

(C) Pixievic
Another little fantasy!
 May 2017 Elizabeth Gene
Lani
If I wrote you a love letter
With words sweeter than nectar
Then will you understand me
But then again how can you
When I don't even understand myself
What if I sang to you a love song
Will the words dripping from my lips
Make you feel me?
Will it help you see
That I'm not as heartless as I seem
If I drew you a picture
With ink or charcoal
Then will you see what I see?
Will the images in my mind spilt
Onto the blank white canvas
Make you see the real me?
What about a painting
Maybe oil or then again pastel
With colors and life
Vigorous lines and shades
will you see that I'm not so insane
Rather trapped
In my own mind
In an infinite maze with no idea of how to escape
Will you then pardon me?
If I were to write to you sing to you
draw for you or paint you
Then
Will you eventually
Love me for me?
This is my story.
It's my first poem in months
and suddenly
I'm stuck.
I've been lying in bed for so long
that I lost my voice,
I think I wrote so many words
for my ex-boyfriend
that I have none left for myself.
My life is a whirlwind
of passing daydreams and photographs
and empty cigarette packs
and cold cups of coffee
and pieces of other peoples' poems...
Pieces of my own poems that I barely remember writing.
I spend my time trying to ignore
the sighs of discontent
in the back of my mind,
echoing across the walls of my brain,
trying to provide a way to relate
to the people I know
but it's hard when
I can barely relate to myself.
I am a work in progress.
The scars that litter me
are fading fast,
but I'm standing still
while the world moves around me.
Inhaling the toxicity and
exhaling the stardust of my peers,
surrounded by memories
locking me in place,
peeling from the walls of my being
like paper,
this is my story.
It's a written and rewritten masterpiece
that I have no record of
because I gave up on journalling
a while ago,
because my life isn't necessarily one
I'd sit down with a glass of wine
and write about at the end of the day.
It's full of torn pages,
crossed out sentences
and smudged words.
I guess those things come of a story unfinished-
of a work in progress.
She never was a swimmer
Although she's had plenty of practice
Drowning in her tears.
Her face, it's beautiful
The streaks glisten like crystals
And her smile is as pure as gold.
From the outside
They would never be able to tell
That she looks for happiness at the bottom
Of a bottle of Pinnacle.
They would never know
That her family is falling apart
That her ex-boyfriend left her for dead
And no one was there to save her.
To them, she is a star
But stars are just ***** of gas and fire
With unstable compositions
Always running the risk of an explosion.
She's just running around
Trying to get some answers
Trying to understand herself
And how she let this happen.
She needs a cushion
A pillow
A blanket
Or maybe someone else
To fall smoothly and swiftly into
As she completely breaks down.
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