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I haven’t done this in a while
Is it silly to be nervous?

My door bell rings
My heart speeds
Mother calls “Daisy!”
And I realize she means me

I haven’t done this in a while
Is it foolish to be restless?

I take the steps one by one
Being sure not to topple down
The door creaks open and
I can see him standing there now.

I haven’t done this in a while
Is it odd to jump into his arms?

He smiles at me and my mother
He answers questions from my father
Everything is perfect
But I can’t help but fidget.

I haven’t done this in a while
Is it wrong to want to run?

We leave the house and walk down
A path of many flowers
I’m unsure what to think
But I find myself counting the hours.

I haven’t done this in a while
Is it childish to hold his hand?

I get into his car
Smoothing my skirt and catching breaths
He pulls out something for me now
And my heart takes a rest.

I haven’t done this in a while
Is it alright to try to kiss him?

I smell the Daisies, white and lush
Loyally loving and so gentle
Does he know I cherish them such?

Not just for the name we share
Or the thorns they lack unlike roses
Not for the simplicity of their petals so fair
But for the meaning behind them

Loving, loyal; so gentle, so innocent

I haven’t done this in a while
But I think I can handle it now.
That fragile cry
Those tiny hands
Such a small body, such big pain.
That tiny heart that pumps much too hard,
That tiny heart was pierced much too young.

So close to death,
So close to life,
So in between,
It isn’t right.

Will they hear the pitter-patter
        of little feet running?
Will they hear the softest of cries
        so early in the morning?
Will she grow and become strong?
Will she go, and leave us so young?

Too young to fight,
Too young to give up,
Too young to die,
Too young to live.

Little Abigail, close your eyes
        you will not have to fight.
Mommy has you in her hands
       everything will be alright.
Grow big and strong in the Lord
       for you are meant for so much more.

Little Abigail, close your eyes, and sleep.
From you I want to hear not a peep.
Rest now and later we shall see.
The running, the growing, of your little feet.

Abigail Madison Elise Nevitt,
              AMEN is cried out for you.
AMEN, the name given to you.
Borne on Good Friday,
               she came home on Easter.
God bless that little heart,
              she was blessed from the very start.
A story about my baby sister.
I think I know you so well
Then there are days...
It's just... it's hard to tell
If you're with me or away
In the depths of your mind, a personal hell

You get your thoughts twisted
You think this all a joke, a game
I wish it was all more easily resisted
For you are hard to reclaim

I hold you tight with care
I tell you it's ok; I love you
But you aren't really there
You've retreated to someplace and I can't break through

Come back to me my darling
I will coax and I will reassure
But you must stop this quarreling
Our love is secure.

With us, there is no punch line
No love has ever been so real
In my eyes...you will only ever shine
Come back to me my love, and your heart I will heal
I wander.
Endlessly, I wander.
Ceaselessly, I walk.
Forever more, I go on.
How many ways can I depict my unrest to you?

Footprints are the timeline of my life.
Where I’ve been, the mistakes and wrong turns I’ve made.
The people who have walked in.
The people who have walked out.
They are etched in the ground, broken in by my feet.

Every so often, a second set of footprints joins mine.
Some go on for months, years.
Those are my favorites.
But they never really last.

Most dip in and out of my path.
Some lead me in circles until I have to leave them behind.
You never know what steps are the right ones
Until you’re looking back at them, behind you.

I wander.
I search.
I trust.
And then, I hurt.

Of these steps I am sometimes wary,
But the set of prints next to mine makes me sure footed, now.
I squint to look ahead, but my vision is terrible.
I can’t be sure, but it seems that there are many sets of prints ahead.

Strong, deep, sure-footed paths are carved out in the future.
Please, take me there.
Please, do not lead me astray.
I don’t want to have look back to judge the way you stroll by my side.

Do not waiver now; I haven’t got time for circles any longer.
Our love is the moments when time slows and we simply breathe together, and I can feel our heart beats whisper to each other.
A line from an old poem I wrote, my favorite line. It sums it all up.
Nightmares. I hate them.
They keep me awake,
They torture me.
They won’t let me wake up.

“Sleep! Sleep!” they say.
“Stay awake! Watch out!” they taunt.
                  So tired….

I’m falling…it’s so dark.
I grasp air, scramble for a hold.
                               I find it!

I scrape my hands and hit my leg
The jolt and the pain wakes me again.
I can’t sleep.
It’s not safe in the dark
Ah! I can’t stand the light
Nightmares…******! I hate them!

My dearest, yes, that’s it.
My darling!
My love, he keeps me safe.
He’ll talk to me; comfort!
No, he’s sleeping.
I cannot bother him.

Sleep.
Nightmares.
Falling….
                              ­          No!

My love…yes, there it is.
He’s so warm, I can feel it now.
Mmm, my darling;
he will not let me fall.
He will always hold on
Despite myself, despite my temper
Despite my rants, despite my antics.
Through all the…the…
Anger!
Frustration!
Overexcitement and
Fear!
Distress and worry!
Paranoia!
**** those nightmares!


I can’t help it.
I’m sorry.
I just….
So much feeling.
I get…
Jumbled.
I get…
Mixed up?
I don’t know

He helps me.
Holds me.
Loves me, even.
                                              How?

I cry and scream,
I back away,
He follows.
I’m sorry.
I just get so jumbled.
He holds me.
I’m so tired…

Sleep, oh sleep….

I close my eyes
And I’m falling.
It’s so dark, hands are grabbing for me.
The light, I want to find it
But I can’t! I’m being
                                                      Chase­d.

******!

Nightmares, I hate them!
Why can’t they be quiet, go away…
SHUT UP!
LEAVE ME ALONE!

I’m so tired
I just
I Get so
Jumbled.

Up and Up and Up
And I can’t stop
I’ll fall.
                                                           The light, why is it so bright?
Nightmares, voices, people, monsters
Get away all of you!

No,
Not you.
I need you, don’t go
Please.
I’m sorry.
I didn’t mean it.

It’s the nightmares
I feel like I’m falling,
Like I’m being chased
These things, they’re everywhere,
And the light, it’s too bright
And I get so jumbled
I can’t help it.
                                                             ­               I’m so tired.

“Sleep! Sleep!”
“Stay awake! Watch out!”
Will the taunting ever end?

Darling…wake up….
I can’t wake up.
I’m being chased
I can’t stop, or else
                                                            ­                                                  I’ll fall.
The point of this poem (originally written to be a poetic dramatic monologue) is to capture the perspective of someone who suffers from Schizophrenia. Through this I hoped to portray the surreal, jumbled feelings that one may experience as well as the difficulty in distinguishing waking life from dreams. My goal with the ejected sentences was to give the reader the effect of not only detached, desperate thoughts but also of someone running, and falling.

..
God dips his head beneath the murky surface of war and blood searching for his children.

His children. They cry out to Him, accuse Him, have forgotten Him, need Him.

They are lost in the muck and the filth and the smog of this nation that throws the first stone; and he weeps as He plucks His children up out of the blood and the dirt and sets them down into the tower of Babel where the people shout “There is no room!” and cry out to Him, accuse Him, have forgotten Him.

This nation that shoots first and asks questions later, the nation of “not my problem,” and moving on.

He touches their heads as they fall asleep, he speaks to them and grants them dreams, and they turn away on their beds of lost memories as they struggle not to hear, not to feel… not to feel even the breathing, the heartbeat, of their lover, their partner, their other half as they reach out in their tossing and turning of nightmares of a nation that does not rest.

The nation who binds their hands in the wires of computers and keyboards, the nation that eats the apple and – in the perceived absence of their Father – raise up false books, sing of false stars, rampage, adulterize and falsify amongst each other always looking for the one, the next one, the next one, is this your card, is this your card, is this your card?

But you’ve had your own card, your own self, in your back pocket, you’ve forgotten what it looks like and now you cannot find the match.

They way worn nation that rests, God bless the rest, by swallowing drug after drug after drink after drink, only to find that rest and that peace just in time to feel the **** of the wires on their bound hands drag them back up again.

So they swallow more drugs, and more drinks, and let their minds wander and wish for their family, but when they go home they think of their labor what’s next for they must prepare, they must keep moving ever forward, never looking back.

And so let the frustration grow.

And the family ever fall.

The family, the nation, that drowns beneath the flood of a weeping God who must break His promise, for His children are lost to Him beneath the feet of so many bearing the mark of Cain.

The feet that do not rest. The feet that keep on walking past the empty forests, the old man on the street, the blind woman crying, the sick starving child sitting next to them.

And these people, these poor people, they sit and they wait and they cry out “why,” they cry out “Help”

…For their Father cannot find them in the murky, ****** water that covers this broken nation.
How many references to modern day commonalities can you find?
Trust is important.
Relationship's foundation.
Why can't you trust me?
Speed
The rapidity in moving or proceeding
Swiftness
Rate of motion or progress
Full
MAXIMUM
Optimum rate of motion

It’s all been SO fast
We've made SO much progress
In SO VERY little time
This is our *optimal
rate of *motion

6 months
181 days
4344 hours
15638400 seconds
Our season of love thus far

Countless kisses
Hundreds of pricele$$ moments
ENDLESS “I love you”s
And it only goes on from here

I can’t wait to see it  A L L
to breathe in every moment
to feel every luscious touch
to taste every sweet kiss
to hear every way you say my name, like no one else does

SO stick around
Let us watch this relationship
Blossom, progress, grow,
Speed
Together, *my love
You found me.

You're so clever,
You're so mysterious,
So cunning and coy.
You hide and sneak,
Laugh and giggle.
You grin with knowledge
And my lack thereof.

But I have the real secret,
I'm sly and crafty,
Sneaky and hidden
In my openness and observations.
More so because my secrets,
stay secret...

I know you better
Than you may believe.
I love you more
Than you can understand.
So I will stay hidden
In my open observations.
I will stay and silent
My crafty cleverness.
I want to be a secret.

You are my secret.
I'll be your's.
You found me.
But the real secret is...


I found you.
Do you ever think of the future?
Do you often dream of the past?
Do you ever think of leaving me?
Do you think of us, and things yet to pass?

What goes through that head of yours?
What thoughts drive you through the day?
I bet your mind isn't always running
All along with illogical things, far away.

What do you think about me really?
What's your first thought of the day?
What concerns keeps you up at night?
What worries pester you, and how can I take them away?

What do you think about the world?
What about other ones?
How do you feel about time travel?
How far do you think our universe runs?

How do you wish to spend life?
What have you done with it so far?
Do you dream of running away from here?
Can I come with you, can we live amongst stars?

The power of a question
Truly lies in how you ask it.
So be careful about things you want to know
And more so about what you admit.
I know, I have too many questions,
I'm too curious for my own good.
Tis a result of my affections,
I simply want you understood.
For the first time,
I'm focused on me.
For the first time,
I can look ahead,
without trying to see someone else.

With you,
oddly,
It is easy to quiet my mind.
With you,
relievingly,
I'm not focused on what's next.

Who would have thought
that it would take a great love
to forget my worries;
To see my future laid out before me.

Not our future....
MY future.
And it all seems so easy.
*With you.

— The End —