It is not the future that I am afraid of
The prospect of repeating the past
Is what scares me the most

I chased you
Until I was exhausted
So you choose to lift me
And carry me as your own
Believing you were someone
Who would finally love me
As I wished to be loved.
Time went on
My days grew greatly
And all was more than enough
Until the day came
The day awaited for all but me
The day I realized you chose me only
To stitch your cuts
And numb your pain...

I guess they were right.

They’ve said
If you write down
your problems
they might disappear ,
Wishful thinking
I tell you.
She writes
no one noticed
She screams
no one heard
She’s drowning
in herself
no one notice
her struggles
she feels like
she doesn’t belong
not a thing going her way
not a **** thing
She’s too full of life
too half live
She’s too full of love
to be half loved
Her heart fighting a raw pain
no one understand
no one even care to notice...
She’s an entire earthquake
confined in her own prison
of her skins
bones as bars
pretty flesh planted feet
waiting for someone to notice
the soil beneath her feet
is breaking...
Pretty face
so perfect in every way
yet no one notice
the sky above her head
is falling
no exit doors
nowhere to run
she can no longer hide
her pieces are falling
into darkness
though the lights are bright
within the dark roads
of a beautiful soul


Can you See her now ?

~
There’s been this weight on my shoulder,
Like a strike system:

Every time I do something that
I tell myself is “wrong,”
I add to this invisible weight.

Now, as it’s becoming too heavy to bear,
I realize that the only thing I’ve done wrong is punish myself for being human.  
And it’s time to stop.

Stop.

Maybe it’s time to rethink
my notion of “wrongs”
And believe in the idea that
it’s okay to be imperfect.

So with these words, I finally
relinquish this burden.
I will not hold on to futility and
self-inflicted pain.
I will not spend the rest of my years in hurting in needless guilt.
I am letting go...

And I will be okay.
~

,how do you know when
(a human is too broken?)



<•>

human too broken?

like the light bulb, removal from its fixture, a simple shaking revelation of the tinkling filament spent, something that cannot be repaired, the only option is replacement and that makes
you cry

the empty box of oatmeal raisin cookies, you find secret’d,
hid by you, not to be found by you
at the bottom of the kitchen garbage,
but box betrayal, by the chartreuse tipped box lid sided
peeking upwards, asking, silencing screaming,
what did I do to deserve
this degrading

like the blouse now too tight that it brings stares as the buttons strain, unwelcome attention unintended,
you know it but still pretend not to see,
for you both once loved that silky guise that so
heightened the high tender, the match of your pink rose skin letting, no! making
your eyes glisten, like broken filament glass, on the sidewalk,
recalling the pleasured admiration,
rain remembered from the
prior priority of a life consisting of only
perfect gifts

so mean revert to the poseur question; this is how...

remove the human from a fixed place, whimpering-threatened,
you may hear clear the crackle cackling  of the innard shards against the misperception of a body intact,
even if you do,
no repair service you want,  can be found, see it nowhere,
is it even
anywhere advertised?

the body presumed intact is secret’d under a tactile coverlet,
holey scupperrd holy cuttered
so that the cells and bicuspids, the threads
no longer function in a tandem,
you keep it in the closet closed,
in the back, deep hid, where,
when it screams why,
it can be safe ignored,
because  ‘betrayed’ is no longer a word,
in your globe's dictionary,
the parental controls activated by you to
save your own inner child’s unconstrained confusion,
it has been removed


so the broken glass, the clothes you dressed each other,
if not weep-well,
well enough hid,
the fit is off,
the fit is off,
the coverlet ripped so bad and neither cares