I made this path my own
I laid these stories out like bricks upon the ground...
As i walked they rose up behind me to create a wall.
An archaic brick by brick, blow by blow, defense.
At the moment i learnt to write, my name,
and to the fists that grabbed my hair, made my breakfast and told me,
'I find it hard to love you';
there began, the foundations of my wall.
Stories about the loving punches of a lover,
the cheating of a best friend, who took my trust to town,
and the loss of my father's approval.
Lines were dug, and the stones laid, down.
Subconsciously i forgot to feel love.
I forgot what it was like to feel another's voice in my ear,
whispering sweet nothings,
of my beauty and the whole entirety of sweet rapture i exulted.
And my path stacked up behind me.
I forgot what it was like,
the thrill of a hand slipping into mine, a kiss on the neck,
it made me blush.
And my wall rose up proud and fierce.
I got scared, adrenalin coursed through my veins,
as i wondered what this new sensation was
and i questioned the very nature of the action.
And my wall rose to the occasion and flung off the feeling of security.
I forgot the thrill of the chase,
compliments rebounded from my ears,
and i laughed at the words 'i love you'.
And my walls closed in.
I forgot the feeling,
of being safe.
Of lying in someone's arms and feeling it was just o.k,
to be like this.
And my walls became an alleyway.
I walked and walked,
sometimes i ran,
but i never, ever, ever looked back.
I stuffed these compliments, hand holding and back-to-chest memories
in the bricks
and scribbled on them
'love is not real', 'you are unworthy', 'love is just a word'
in black marker pen, bold and thick in line,
so i could one day i could find them,
maybe take them down and find my way out.
But these bricks had become 2ft, 3ft, 4ft deep.
I searched for new lovers, new friends, new beings,
to show me what love was,
but each time i made the same mistake;
I believed in the beauty i thought love was,
because i had forgotten,
but my lesson wasn't learnt.
I scribbled my insecurities on those bricks.
And how i miss those days of those **** infernal butterflies,
those **** feelings,
those feelings, i tried so hard to lose so long ago.
My feelings, set in mortar and concrete.
I understand my path is not set,
my past is behind me,
but i am lost,
i am lost,
I. Am. Lost.
Love is not logical.
Love is not set in stone.
Love is not to be captured, or held over by dominion.
I cannot understand love, or to be loved; it's written somewhere in my past.
Someone once held my face and called me beautiful,
and i lost the will to believe it,
and i made this path my own.
And now i subconsciously walk alone.