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Wangui  Oct 2018
Surviving Loss
Wangui Oct 2018
The tables have been turned and all my kitchen wear on the floor.. I was holding my shoe in my hand I could not believe that someone had **** near broke everything in my house.  The tv was gone and they ripped my seats to shreads. I don't know what they were looking for but i'll tell you something for sure it wasn't the cushions. Even in that moment the loss i was experiencing without couldn't match the one within.

I miss her, i do.... My dearest Yuri. The one who woke me up at night in dramatic cries and seemed sort of angry that she wasn't swimmjng in my womb anymore. The one who seemes to enjoy crapping herself and make me clean the mess up.  The one who looked at me and in those seconds of locking eyes we knew we were meant for each other. Ooooh Baby...

What worse could those thieves do to me.  Haven't i seen it all.. Death was the biggest and most hurtful of all the *******!!!  Taking the life out of me.... Without a care of how he would leave me. Death is like a man who takes and takes and never gives. Always wanting you to be the victim... Hell even hell wants you to survive the fire today so you could burn some more tomorrow.

Now the women look at me like a failure.. A woman who couldn't keep a crying baby alive.... And what could I have done?  If i could breathe her my own life I could. Without a second to spare. I would trade it.  She was dying and I could not do a thing to help. How useless can mortality be? What is the purpose of life if you cannot live with those you truly care for. She chocked. She was suckking to much.. I was sleeping. I was tired and I lost myself for a second... But a second is what it took for the passerby to grab her.

Uugh blood.... Cut from the glasses on the floor. Honestly did they have to make such a mess... How hard is it to not break stuff. Do clean job.. My God... Proffesional thieves need to come back in town. I mean there was no one in the house... They even broke my special flask... Hell, my only heart was broken and am still walking like a 'normal' person.

Yuri... My sweet Yuri.. Sometimes I see you everyhwere.  My mother comes every other day to check up on me... She says she has to.  I don't have to go through this on my own.. But why does it feel like i am.  I feel like the air has changed it chokes now . I feel like the spaces are cornering me. Like am walking round in circles. The Exodus!  

Cleaning up my house helps. I don't need the police at this point... What more can they do anyway?  All my glasses are broken not to mention my seats and my tables. They even threw my cooking *** on the floor! Honestly were they trying to hurt me. Tough luck someone beat them to it. I don't need the police bringing in pieces of me that I want to leave behind.

Yes cleaning helps.... Maybe one day I will clean up my closet or what is left of it anyway. But right now am ready to leave the memories and the nightmares.  Maybe i can make peace.
Freijah Sel Yna  Oct 2018
Fragile
Freijah Sel Yna Oct 2018
She's like a glass
with a broken body,
chipped heart by every events
she had gone through.
Cracked, damaged and flawed.
Got hurt trying to fix things,
and bleed trying hold
herself together.
One more gentle touch
to make sure how she was doing?
She'll be shattered
into pieces without knowing.
I don’t think of you that often
The eyes and faces all turned themselves towards me
Love no one
However, we may suffer
It’s funny, if you do, you start missing everybody
And I’m afraid
My failures: I had not forgotten them
To have survived so long
It happened, I stopped loving him.
Tommy Randell  Dec 2014
Meeting
Tommy Randell Dec 2014
To loosen with my bare hands
the wide air between us
in explaining something of meaning
I almost feel
I am pulling flesh
from the living and moving moments
possible here.

It is somehow breaking
the natural order of things
to use words alone
of all viable means
in setting out the wind-waves and rivulets
of ideas internally flowing -
but I must try and get something out for once.

I circle in bad phrases
prickling with the itchiness of sharing,
I send out a few vague words
horrified and perplexed
at their translation now they are naked
knowing you too listen
and they are at last unalterable.

Deep in the brain, far back
this is my bad time
but I know where the roots go
down into me
and from the storm’s heart
perpetual agitation pumps hand in hand
with calm acceptance.
The self *****, alternately
to fan and to freeze
whatever doubts or unease are burning.
Talk travels the spaces between us
through the clear air
in the kind of silence
surviving bones may know swinging in a wind.

But I know stillness can become alive
when living mouths bring their hearts to bear -
ears can well hear
what the breath has to say,
as the eye sees
the body’s smallest noises -
face to face we are a field of listening.

The warm comes without sound.
This is only the edge of a becoming.
We are not trapped in the lips -
already we lean inward
to know of each other and to give
not words for the wind
but a dance at ease with all that flows.
Lost Soul  Jun 13
Surviving
Lost Soul Jun 13
I feel damaged, I feel broken
see depression had me trapped
At a young age
well before I had even spoken
When I was 8, I saw someone get sick
I spiraled infront of everyone
they say me as a burden so
I was sent home real quick
When I was 10, I laid in bed
for two months...
I watched the same movie
and refused to eat because the demons in my head
When I was 12, I was scared to leave ..
my house and even my bedroom
I would hyperventilate
then cry so hard I'd heave
When I was 18
I screamed till my voice was no more
my cries echoed off the walls
but no one cared to notice
what happened behind my bedroom door
When I was 19, I was too nice
I put others first
but little did I know
a piece of my heart was the price
I am broken, I am damaged
everyday I wake up
surviving the day is always a challenge
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