Saying goodbye
To someone you love
Is like reading the final page
Of an amazing book.

As the last chapter ends
You begin to notice
Just how beautiful
And perfect
The plot always was.  

You appreciate the joy
And even the pain
As you read and thumb
Through every page.

Finally understanding
The moral of the story,
You realize you've reached
The end of this journey.

Although the last sentence  
Is the most difficult to read
Another great book awaits
Once you turn the final page.

Eventually you may stumble
Upon yet another great find.
Or maybe you'll return
To the book you left behind.

You may just discover
Once all is said and done
That this particular book  
Was your favorite story
All along.

Am I the only one that has their demons feasting upon their souls?
They say it is easy to tie a noose around your mind,
To overcome the urges and temptations of ending your life with a suicide
They don't know the true pain and torment that is going on in my head
An epic battle that leaves me with restless nights in bed
"End your life already" they say, as they prey on me during my weakest hours
Sometimes I give into the voices, carrying the sharp blade to my wrist
Crying as I struggle to mutter three powerful words that keeps me going
Choking on my sobs, my lungs deflate with a desire to say that God loves me
I try to convince myself that God is trying to test my faith
And to just wait, wait and wait
Then my Demons will eventually go AWAY.....



~Imperfect Desire **

~~♥~~

I used to think men
should be more like books
Both you cannot
judge by looks...

If I didn't want to finish reading
I put it down... no heart was bleeding

A book will never fuss or fight
It will stay with you
through the night...

It doesn't smoke. It doesn't drink.
It won't leave toothpaste
in the sink!

It doesn't binge... it don't eat...
It won't leave up the toilet seat!

It don't forget. It doesn't mope.
It won't hog the TV remote!

It doesn't have to have
The last say...
It doesn't have legs

to walk away.

But it's not soft. It isn't warm.
It doesn't keep you
safe from harm.

Even though it makes no fuss
It can't think. It can't discuss.

Even though it has its charms
it can't hold you in its arms.

It doesn't pine. It doesn't miss.
It can't hug and it can't kiss.

So now I think on it again...
... I think BOOKS should be
             more like MEN!!!


SoulSurvivor
2/20/2015

My son runs, wrapping arms around
my nebulous waist.

"l love you, Mom!"  He squeezes tighter,
as if letting go would be his black hole.

"I love you, too, " I squeeze back, absent mindedly.  (Where is the cream? I need coffee.)

"I love you more!" he breathes, without pause.
He gazes into my eyes,
searching my planets.

"Oh no, that can't be true," I retort.
I forget the coffee, his eyes are starlight.

"I love you to infinity!" he exclaims,
staring harder.

He wants to sail the Milky Way with me.

"Me too," I reply, and remember oxygen tanks.

I'm speaking in light years, and I hope the sound waves will catch up to him.

His face cracks into a million years of forever, before he lets go,
dancing across the universe of our livingroom,
his solar system intact.

At least for now.

It's been five years now.
Five years flew by,
five years into thin air,
five years forever gone.

I cannot remember a time,
where I felt more anger,
hatred,
disgust.

I carry these emotions still with me to this very day,
in hope that I will someday wake up,
and no longer feel them.

Sometimes I find myself waking in the night,
calling your name,
reaching out for you,
only to feel cold sheets on the other side.

I write this to you now,
not because I am lonely,
not because I am desperate,
but because I love you.

No matter how much hatred I feel,
I always will love you.

Today while I was at work,
an elderly couple came through my line.
Their faces were heavily wrinkled,
aged over time.

The man greeted me kindly,
asking for paper and plastic.
His voice was rough, raspy, and weak,
and most certainly unenthusiastic.

As I bagged his groceries,
I watched as he talked with his wife.
The woman he had to chosen to be with,
for the rest of his life.

Once we were done ringing up his food,
he reached out to pay.
His hand trembled when he extended it,
as I continued to survey.

"Debit?" he quivered with uncertainty,
as the cashier kindly took his card.
"Just confirm and sign right there." she said,
as he concentrated very hard.

Bent over slightly, eyes squinted,
he shakily signed his name.
A receipt printed, and was handed to him,
"Alright, have a great day."

I turned to the man and his wife,
and smiled as they smiled back at me.
"Thanks kid, don't work too hard!",
he said to me gleefully.

I nodded and smiled as they slowly waddled away,
and headed out the door.
I watched as they left, out of my sight, and thought,
there has to be more.

There has to be more to this measly life,
than just what I can see.
There has to be more to this pathetic life,
which means nothing to me.

The thought of death, it scares me so,
and leaves me shaking in fear.
My mind is clouded, thoughts a blur,
nothing seems to be clear.

The thought that someday when I'm old,
I'll wake up and think to myself,
"Welp, this is the end of the line,"
is really something else.

Because to be quite honest, I don't want to have to think,
"this is the final stretch."
I would rather not have to confront,
such an evil as death.

I don't want to face a wrinkled face,
brittle bones and a deteriorated mind.
I don't want to grow old, or die alone,
or face the powerful Father Time.

But then I remember what I saw today,
and it makes me realize how I will survive.
The man had a love, his wife, his soul mate,
which kept him alive all along.

So I will face my wrinkled face,
and I will face brittle bones.
I will face my deteriorating mind,
and I won't face them alone.

I will love you all my life,
and I will make you my wife.
And we will fight Father Time,
together, side by side.