I must have super strength.

Because I’m carrying around these
     mountains on my shoulders,

When I know I should be climbing them instead.

But for some reason,

I’ve always been better at carrying pain,
     Than overcoming it.

I guess I just don’t have the strength for that.

i think he breaks more
than he puts himself together;
because once he shatters,
he doesn’t try to piece things back up.
instead,
those million pieces
break into another million pieces,
and then he is dust
that won't blow away.
instead,
he wilts in the back of the universe,
watching the dead activity around him;
he is only collected
not put together, i guess.

A heart so troubled and in doubt
Not sure, what life is all about
She feels invisible yet she sees herself
When she looks into the mirror

People tend to pass her by
Refused the lips of any guy
She soothes herself by wishful thoughts
When she dreams all by herself

She speaks of love and passion
In such an ordinary fashion
As if, she has encountered
The love of another

Massive pain, at times, paralyses
A body of rejection, only she realizes
She dances solo once again
To a song that only, she can hear

Her body parched, a thirst for affection
Her painful heart, desires protection
If only she can be embraced
By the hands of someone else

Its only her hands that she finds familiar
Its only her own eyes that can see her
She longs the company of anything other,
Than the fantasies inside her mind

Copyright @sheryllinhayes
If Life Was Made on Canvas

i let my eyelids flutter shut
smiled coyly
held their face in my hands gingerly
stood on my tip toes and
some lips met somewhere
i can't say for sure
when i shut my eyes
i was a sea in their arms
completely enamoured
and i wanted a little bit more
just a glimpse of those eyes
looking at me
but when i looked back
i
i couldn't recognize those arms
those eyes those lips
then for whom was i smiling?

When
there's that certain
tapping on
a fragile heart
there's that
salty raindrop
collecting
in your
eye

I dream of* lovers
who fascinate me to no end,
veering the course of their affection
from something they understand exists,
to something they fear to understand

I dream of hearts
yearning for their better halves,
as they seep deeper into the chasms
that engulf their intimacy within

I dream of sinners
who wish to speak of sin;
rather the innocence of deviance
and its naiveté when it comes
to matters of the heart

I dream of writers
who bleed from their pens
as they wholeheartedly express their emotions
and aspire to quell the heartache
that they endure every day

I dream of innovators
who wish to present upon their peers
the next invention selected
to represent the advent of a better tomorrow

I dream of tears.
I dream of tears....

Why? What sorcery forces one
to shed so many
that they leak past
the prisms of known consciousness
and into the peaceful slumber
that comforts aching minds?

I apologize.

Now you know of the dread, sorrow,
and sheer wonder that comes
when I dream of earthly elements
begging for peace.

I dream because I am a coward.
I apologize for *dreaming.

or it breaks you,
life,
so they say,
this or that,
not both.

life?

it makes you
breakable,
grindeable,
unmaked
in maked up,
washable,
faded faces.

it makes you
unbreakable
broken-born ones,
blended
into crepuscules,
bent rainbows
to the absence of light.