Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Selena Jance Apr 2015
I’ve been torn down when lovers’
knowledge told me not to be protected from
my faithless heart frame. It tells me that
it’s not built to last and was

never true anyway.

All these times that I knew in facing the mirror
every thought turned into that light, shifting
moments to disclose the deeper meaning of
just being here. Knowing this, holding myself in an

act of reconciliation, that part of me burnt out
my soul, bound to exile, dangling from me, is my
own self esteem. /Prohibited. No one whose presence
I feel can forcefully lift it back in, this heavy it’s my burden.

Nothing but true unadulterated love can
hold me, if only for the fragment it takes to
relieve my distrust, of anything, of all that is able
to console me. Then it passes and barely leaves

me only the memory.

© April 16th, 2015
It's hard to trust and love when you've been taught to hate yourself
Selena Jance Jan 2015
There is a place in time one
wishes happy endings to arise, but will
not see, that it is meant to
last. I want love but don’t expect

any lasting effect. Almost always, one
falls out, though it is not impossible. I see the
faces, the eyes which show the
experiences. I see more in the soul,

I know they can tell I search.
Maybe, when I see that light, I will
be able to say, discern a path given
to last to the end. But I can’t until

I’ve searched long enough, given
enough of myself to have earned a respect
from life, the cosmos, to take away any
doubt, and let me sway to the eternity of

love. Tonight, I just want to feel thrill, behold
it how I feel it in my soul, no matter how
contrived. I see a way beyond the reflection; I look
into my eyes, see whole worlds within. I wait

till someone, finally, can see mine.

© 2004
Selena Jance Jan 2015
Purple hair, purple jewellery, and clothes.
Purple everything. The cross between male
and female. Mixed in a painting *** with dried up brush.
The coloured high of the ultimate low, for me.

It has caused me to see, beyond
my own yearnings and see that of more deeply
penetrating needs. Another living in my
soul. Cruel to me. One I couldn’t have fathomed had

I not fallen, into the dark. To see, to
need the pain and crush the happy thoughts.
Crave purple things above all. Crave a taste bitter
only sleep too long can create. Any creation is

hailed, heckled as the act of treason. How dare
you feel anything constructive?! And hide in
a corner till it’s gone. Till the thoughts vapor into
thin air and nothing is left but empty blackness.

Stand up, failing at first two attempts, and gain the
strength to not be ridiculed a third. Falling forward,
hanging in mid air. The wood hits the ribs, and sharp
pain adds to the blunt. The thumping in the words,

the washing of blood in the ears. The whinnying noise, tone
of loneliness reaffirming this connection cut off
felt from birth on. Never able to join the ranks of the
careless. Whether one lives or dies. Afraid to live, stuck

behind a thick glass wall. Alienation from birth, being
addicted to the dark. With purple hue. Purple ledged
in the deep of my soul. Purgatory keeps a flame to warm my
naked arms and legs. Huddled in the moist cold of

the hidden part of the mind. The most fundamental. Foundation
to build a life upon. Not fully corroded but hole ridden and
making for a perfect tomb. When life ends and you are
left with the colour of both male and female the same. Colour

of sadness.

© 2004
Selena Jance Jan 2015
Sadness comes with me to you, and I speak the
words in my mind as I cannot say
them to you. Even as my blue grey crosses with

your brown, the emptiness fills my subconscious, as
your unawareness of not knowing penetrates; the drowning of
show and tell suffocates, inside me. Unable I am to satiate

my colours for the map, I drew for you lays unread, in the
dark on your desk. Inside my eyes, unshed tears are
burning, for their way to come out, as it aches and takes

the fabric of skin with them to reveal a shallowed
passion. I wonder, if I should make an end to it, and once
and for all be done with this…

But the look in your eyes, however empty of
apperception pervade into intuitive truth, though deep words
are few. I had not realized, been focusing on

the wrong things all along. So I bid, expand your
vocabulary on me, I will show you the wealth of the vast
universes they can reveal. Into your world they will bleed, as I will

read your little star sign book; and with the way in
which you devour written words, open up your mind and take
mine into it. Give me a reason to look into your

unsuspecting eyes, with a sincerity that is blind.

© 2005
Selena Jance Jan 2015
A strange thought in a night which
breaks with the loneliness come forth
from togetherness, one ness. A cosmos of a

fragmentary manifestation, split into countless
mirror shards, of which one shoots through my
heart. In nocturnal days and illuminating darknesses

finally a depth was found again which
seemed so unacquired; that love could not be far
away, but here, waiting to dawn.

Hearts that steal and souls who rob, people
of their glee. In between that all sat still, an island,
by choice untouched with eager hands. For he

had not sought them out himself. But one day, with a silence
which could be so roaring and deceiving, a frail
soul, that made overtures to a burning devil was set

aflame herself. Yet, she is afraid now to be
extinguished before she could have raged. When her
eyes tell what her mouth cannot; his and that

dreadful gentle look, not knowing, and lips seeking out
a heart that bleeds. But a small tear, but one which
will pull open and gush, tears of both sadness and

joy, that a not discussed secret could stir
her, and at the same time surely could affirm, that her heart
hadn’t died down, but felt just as much as a

flower which only just bloomed.

© 2005
Selena Jance Jan 2015
Are you there to please me? In our unchangeable
goodbyes, or outside them you can’t wash away my
ache, of when I am with you or I am


The smile through your shades, in the
sun, flickering to the pain of moments coming to be;
an absence of you and a guess, but only

scratching the surface of what I am
seeing is filling in my heart till its edges, yet unfulfilled; what a
certain other couldn’t do for me. Make me

stop thinking and talking, merely looking
at the bursts in your eyes, the home with you, I feel estranged and
arriving at times when you look at me, capture

my heart. Through glass of the mind and
glasses for your eyes you keep me as your arms reach
to hold onto me, cling to me. Inhaling my scent and

kissing my hair, in the intense of intently. In the

sun today, saying our repeated goodbye, the truth felt as if it
was nothing I could say, nothing you couldn’t know, yet
only the surface was scratched, but still I hope you

know I ache more before watching you leave.

Selena Jance Jan 2015
Did he take his
wrists? First the right, then
the left? Because it was

easier to make the
last incision? What made him
make this decision? Something from

inside bartered for his sanity?

Never the external influences who
keep their thoughts to
themselves. What made him

decide to take the risk? It’s never
too late to see; how lovely things
could be. When I feel the

blood that pumps through
them, I would – I could never take
my own. I feel it too painful in

thought, too precious
to be. When I rub on my wrists I
think of him. How could one try to

take his own life? I ask me.

© 2005
Next page