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I don’t know just where to go from here
I am lost without you here by me,
And everything I would give to see your face again…

I am lost inside my own dark mind,
‘Cause I never once could defend myself
Against the memories that scream they’re still alive:
The way I lied to myself about how things would change,
How I’d never be the man I used to be.
But, I let you lie, and told myself again that it was fine.

All the words I've said to you
Were drown out by your hate for me.
I’m the one who hid the truth, and lied about your lies.
I don’t care what you believe.
Believe it.
I don’t care what thoughts collide inside your hollow mind.
I don’t care what you say.
So, say it.
I know every single lie you never tried to hide.
Now, I feel so hollow inside,
For you've forsaken all I am.
You’re the one who left me alone
Before I ever left you, alone.
Another poem I have been sitting on for quite a long time, thinking there was more to be said.  Sometimes, we find we've said all there is to say. The process and time it took me to fully traverse the thought process related here in actuality was much longer a time frame than the poem can suggest, and it was written from the same circumstance and frame of mind from which my poem "Neverafter" was written.
Here in the Neverafter
I have seen the things you won’t show
It’s such a sweet disaster
Just how much our love could have grown
But I can taste the emptiness
That lies behind each smile you fake
And I can feel your hate infest
Watching every move you won’t make
And it’s not that I don’t love you
It’s not that I don’t care
It's just that I have seen your every microscopic layer
Despite what you may think, I’m not afraid of being alone
But I am afraid that you’ll suffocate my soul
Because I've already died a thousand times
With every time you never said “I love you” first
And I've bled a million tears
With every day that you've been so far from my side
I’m haunted by the memories of who you used to be
Before your lies became perverse
And I’m chocking on the ashes
Of the love you threw away
Before I left you so far behind
And the stories of the person
That you never used to be
Like an echo in a graveyard
Of a love that could not be
And the mourning of the people
We never could have been
There’s a story never told here
It’s the one of you with me
I have been sitting on this for quite a long time, always thinking there was more to say. It seems that it was finished long ago.
The heart is like a puzzle, it is broken from the start
Pieced together incorrectly, then it’s torn apart
Scattered, mismatched pieces only make a hollow shell
It’s the middle that’s the riddle. This is why we suffer well
Broken, jagged edges lock in place from time to time
But, the picture’s so much bigger, with some pieces hard to find
Scattered out upon the surface, wandering and estranged
Longing just to be complete, they beg to be arranged
To pump more than a numb, and sometimes bitter, tragic wine
That leaves our souls hung over from the picture undefined
Trying oh so vainly to place pieces left ajar
As the picture in our heads still differs so from who we are
Sometimes the missing pieces are what paint the picture true
Each one cut so differently, to different depths and hues
Paragraphs and chapters in the story of our lives
Each one placed can bring a smile or carve us like dull knives
Until they are residing in the place they need to be
Coinciding with the pieces of what was and what’s to be
For broken hearts cannot be whole until they’re incomplete
For seldom do we realize just what it is we seek
Merely waiting for the one who finally chances to pass by
Who sees the very pieces they've been missing in their lives
For it’s the very pieces that we share with one another
Which make whole our broken hearts, and the broken hearts of others
It's a different kind of crazy, and different kind of sane
It's a welcome form of torture and a pleasant way of pain
It's in tears for joyous reasons and in unexpected smiles
It's in overflowing energies so shared through every while
It's in everything we say and do, in rhythm and in rhyme
It's in every word we've spoken and in every written line
It's in every, "I love you," and embrace when day is through
It is such a treasured pleasure to have found someone like you
Rest your eyes, return to dream, and we'll talk in but a while
May you have a beautiful morning, and awaken with a smile
I will not fight what feels right
Nor will I silence what inspires
For sometimes we find everything
When we find our desires
None of us will ever know
Just what is meant to be
Without wanting
Without waiting
Without seeing where it leads

If we do't take a chance
Then we don't stand a chance
Silence is a hard thing to understand. It has a wide vocabulary, and sometimes rings out so loudly, as if a choir of confusion, that it is nearly impossible to translate. Sometimes it is so void of life that one cannot even hear one’s own heart beating. Silence is never the same twice, for it comes with different emotions and circumstances each time, even if seemingly the same, and it always has something new to unravel, whether it is what we need to hear, what we refuse to hear, or what we’ve been waiting to show, or trying not to show, ourselves or another, all along. Silence can be an ever changing friend, or an unrelenting enemy. No matter the form or fashion, silence is, and will forever remain, the most welcome and unwanted part of our lives.

It is an often overlooked truth that silence can be anything but. The voices echoing within the vastness between one ear and the next are still far more audible than anything exhaled amidst a mixture of lips, teeth, and tongue, so that even when we are not speaking our mind, the mind is speaking, even if only to the soul attached to it, speaking volumes silently as they translate into emotion and action, or the lack thereof, creating a vocabulary of gesture and expression, but also of stillness and blankness, woven together in both intricacy and complication, losing nothing in translation of language, but sometimes losing much in the heart’s translation of emotion to and from a soul other than its own.

Emotions are each a different language in themselves, for each has their own gestures, expressions, and blank stillness. The mind learns new languages by hearing and reading and teaches the mouth and fingers to translate from thought to spoken or written word, and it depends upon the exposure and the depth of study and experience in any given language as to which we become more or less fluent in, both in speaking and in understanding. It is much the same with the heart. It learns each new language of emotion by the experience of feeling, and depending on the depth and experience with each, the heart becomes more fluent in some over others, and sometimes one over any other. But, it is the relationship between the mind and the heart that truly allows us to understand these feelings, in others as well as in ourselves.

We say that it is the heart that guides us. We say to follow our heart. We say that our heart has been broken, or that it has been made whole. We say that our heart hurts, our heart leaps, skips a beat, races, that is swells and that it grows cold, or one of any other descriptive analogies. It is often what we feel inside our chest that dictates what we decide upon in our minds in any given thing of emotional importance. Poetry, literature, art, everyday speak, and even actions and expressions project and profess what it is that we feel in our hearts at any given instance or in any given circumstance. But, this is merely the hearts reaction to what our minds perceive in any given emotion of circumstance.

It is the depth of the understanding of any given thought or idea, fact or fiction, that ties into the emotional in any way or on any level for each of us individually. Depending upon what we think and believe about any given thing, it will have a different reaction in each of us depending on how important or unimportant it may be to each of us based on our individual way of thinking. The differences between what each of us considers important or unimportant has an influence on how each of us feels about any given thing or circumstance. It is our feelings about what and how we think and what we understand (or sometimes believe we understand) that are the basis, the origins, and the essence of our emotions.

The mind could not function if not for the heart performing its own function. In turn, the heart could not function if not for the mind. They are dependent upon one another. They are slave to one another. As long as the two continue to function together in any conscious state of awareness (or in some unconscious states), the mind literally controls the heart and the heart literally sustains and obeys the mind. The mind may decipher and understand what the heart feels in reaction to its thoughts, but it is the heart that feels it. This is why we speak of the heart and not the mind in almost every instance of emotion. This, however, does not mean that everyone’s mind understands the heart's obedience to the emotions created by the thoughts it produces, just as most do not realize it is the heart’s physical reaction in emotion that the mind relates its thoughts and feelings to unknowingly and descriptively. This lack of understanding applies more to the emotions emanating from others, be they audible or silent, than they do to the emotions we feel ourselves the greater percentage of the time.

How can this be so? How is it that the majority of the time, we misread, ignore, or completely overlook the emotions emanating from others when we feel those same emotions ourselves, and often express them in the same ways, whether more or less often, and whether we show our emotions deliberately, or they show despite our failed attempts at masking or hiding them? How is it that we fail to understand, or understand more fully, the torment or elation anyone other than ourselves can be going through at any given moment when we, ourselves, have been through the same or similar circumstances? Even when we have not been through the same circumstances bringing about such emotions in others, how is it that we have such a hard time understanding that the same emotions we experience can be brought about in others by completely different circumstances?

Maybe it is the amount of people who fake emotions to gain for themselves something from another in ill begotten ways so often that it becomes hard to believe what so many try to show or hide from us emotionally. Maybe it is that we are so often trying to understand those things in and for ourselves that we fail to see how those emotions affect others in their interactions with us and in their own lives. Maybe it is where some of the circumstances that bring about the same emotions for others are not quite the same circumstances that bring them about for us at times. Maybe it is where we are in a different state of emotion at times than the person or people we are interacting with, and our absorption in our own emotions takes our sight and understanding away from theirs at any given moment. It could be any one or more of these reasons, or even that we have had our own emotions misread and disregarded so many times that our own emotions have become so deep and ominous at times that we cannot see through the shadows that surround us or the elation we feel for ourselves in those moments. There are so many reasons that could be factors.

Even if we don’t feel the same emotions at the same exact time as someone else, or for the same exact reasons, we still feel the same emotions as everyone else, for despite each emotion being a different language, what we feel is universal. Despite the false witnesses of emotion who seek to deceive for whatever gain or manipulation they so choose, there are still so many good people trying to understand themselves, as well as others. In emotion, regardless of race or nationality or origin, we all speak the same emotional languages, even if some of us are more fluent in some emotions over others due to our personal experiences. If more of us would try, and some of us would try harder, to understand the emotions of others, not only from the circumstances bringing them to life, but in the effect each emotion has on each person in their moments of emotion, just as we so try to understand our own, then maybe, just maybe, there would not be so much confusion, misunderstanding, and in some cases, judgment, at the differences in what others feel and experience in any moment, whether similar or the same to our own, and hearts would heal more so than being broken, and we would see similarities over differences.

Despite how we live, where we come from, and who each of us are personally, we are all the same in what we feel in our hearts and through our minds, and even in our differences, we are still one in the same. Our minds control our hearts, and our hearts control our minds. We all feel, and we all feel the same, even if at different times than one another. Even when there are no words to say, and even when our words won’t bleed upon page or screen, or our emotions will not translate to whatever medium of expression we choose, our silence still speaks just as loudly as our words, for our every thought and action is based upon the language of emotion, and in that, we all speak the same language, even in silence.

Where it is so often that silence from another, or reflected upon another, determines our own understanding and emotion in interaction with the emotions of others, we should listen and try to understand more than just cursory what those silences reflect emotionally.  Sometimes, our silences speak just as much, if not more, than words or other mediums can allow, if we would but listen as closely in others as we do in ourselves in the languages of emotion, with our hearts and minds in equal measure, instead of letting our own emotions in our own circumstances at any given time impede or disrupt how we see or hear these emotions effecting others in their own circumstances, similar or differing, for they are something we should try to relate to, not self-sidedly compare to our own in trying to self-deceptively prove that no one understands how we feel.
It is one thing to write about such things in poetry or other forms, for we are describing our own personal experiences. It is quite another thing to allow ourselves to misunderstand, misinterpret, or ignore the emotions of others for any reason, especially because we have convinced ourselves that no one can hurt like we do or suffer as we have or are suffering, and it is often the silences that have the most impact on how we understand or misunderstand others. This is a thought that rambled on in the best of my understanding.
A shadow cast by sunlight is unmistakable. A shadow cast by the moon is no less a shadow because it is not cast by the sun.  A shadow cast by false light is no less a shadow because it is not cast by the moon. A shadow cast by a moonless sky is no less a shadow because we can barely see it. A shadow is a shadow despite the source of its existence, despite how visible it may be, and despite who or what may or may not be present to witness of its existence. Shadows exist because there is light. Given enough light, however, shadows can shrink, fade, and vanish. Surround an object at every angle with enough light, and the shadows have nowhere to fall; nowhere to exist.

The same is true of darkness. Take away all light and darkness follows, fills, and devours. Shadows are the beginnings of darkness. The more light obscured, the greater the shadow. The greater the shadow, the greater the darkness. The more things set about an individual to obscure light, the more darkness surrounds the individual. But, as long as one can see shadow, one has naught to fear. Where there is shadow there is light. Shadows cannot exist without light. It is when one can no longer see the shadow for the consuming, eternally hungry darkness that one should fear, for the light is there no longer.
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