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The minute I set foot in the place,
a rush of emotion overwhelmed me,
every new one a contradiction of the next.
Friendly. Hostile.
This place was everything and nothing all at once,
my mind could not comprehend it
and my heart shied from my sleeve.
“Nice to see you again.” Familiar strangers greeted me with at the door,
smiling faces with something different in their eyes,
the teeth echoed there but with an underlying undertone.
Naively I wished to see love, and somewhere I did.
Not love, I reminded myself,
conditional love.
Not the same thing,
not one bit.
I gathered strength.
I crossed the entrance into the main part of the building
and immediately wanted to turn around and run.
I’d been in churches before,
been amazed at first by their beautiful decor,
high ceilings and the way the priests
convincing voice traveled through the room.
But just as quickly as I had noticed the beauty, I noticed what it
cheaply concealed with crayola carvings
and thrift-store folk-lore.
I saw through the supposed messenger of God
and the way his dramatic gestures
and loud attire
drew attention unto himself rather than the message,
that his words were the unfolding of a play,
merely theatrical.
Most of all I noticed the absence of the very thing said to be celebrated in this place,
this building said to be its home.
I recoiled in my seat instinctively,
not from the collection plate,
but from the absence of god.
But this was like no church I’d been in, not really a church at all.
The decorations simple, bright but not gaudy,
the preachers many and seemingly without a need for individual importance. Chairs in rows, comfortable but not overly so,
instead of the wooden pews.
Hues of serenity hug the walls, warmth hovers.
This place, where I’d learned, conquered, crushed, played, cried, mourned.
The images seared.
Every one of these people served as mothers and fathers of sorts,
referring to me as their sister,
making me feel so included that they became part of me,
A family, a growth, a friend, a tumor.
They locked themselves in my every cell,
rooted in my genes.
The blame a disagreement, the loss a limb.

And there she was,
the Queen of the Faithful,
dragging my severed limb behind her as she is warmly welcomed by my family,
into my home.
They flock her with smiles and love,
pure love,
although still conditional,
there are no lies in those eyes.
They cherish their own,
shun the rest,
and she will always be one of them, she was born to play this role.
And she smiles with the same teeth she sank into my gut when she threw me away,
grin stained with my blood.
Had she ever really loved me,
were we ever truly friends, so close as to honestly be pronounced sisters?
Yes, only conditionally.
I miss her,
but the Queen must not mix with the world,
a world I now belong to fully.

Does she bear any of the responsibility
for my retreat into
the dark abyss I had always been warned about,
the sins that seemed as sweet as sugar,
as sultry as silk?
Or was my dwindling self-control and my secret,
impulsive longing for the unknown too strong,
a spiritual suicide waiting to happen?
Rejection lead me astray,
and the world showed me belonging of a different sort.
A place my spontaneity could dig its claws into,
somewhere my talents could be used.
As I sit in the room and look towards her,
meeting her eyes, I instinctively look down,
guilty for daring to look at her.
The Slave of Indulgence staring down the Queen of Purity?
It is unacceptable.
This sign of defeat so unlike me,
but my minds been misty on the subject of self as of late.

The one thing on my mind throughout this meeting of worshipers is not god, but of this:
Is the Queen burdened by the ****** limb,
as the Slave is left empty without it?
Forever Draining and
Forever Straining.
No relief.

And that’s it.
They announce it.
I’m cast out, rejected, excommunicated, disfellowshipped, forgotten.
I walk out, out of the door, the parking lot.
Out of the search-light, the prison, the circle, the family. Out of their lives.
I run, lungs tangled dusty plastic bags,
heart begging to collapse.
My body always screams, curses, whines, ******* when I use it.
So I abuse it.
I crawl, I claw, I fly down the street.
To a bench, an oasis, a shelter.
I roll, I light, I exhale.
I wonder what they would think of me now.
I pop, I grind, I inhale.
I see in numbers and feel in colors,
the world equals nothing and my corpus is pumped with cold, black, but I don’t care.
Because the world is uncaring and cruel and the Arcadia promised to me, the one that heals, has marked me unfit. So I quit.
What is it you want, why is it I’m here? Does God love us all, or thrive on our fear?
Whatever is out there, here my plea.
No more illusions or tricks of the eye, show me, unmask reality, strip its disguise.
Flames, smoke, and nothing.
I see me, and my sanity,
and the universe speaks back,
Originally a short story, i thought it'd be nice to share anyways. Comments appreciated
                                                  Copyright Krystelle Bissonnette
I wonder about you everyday—
Every little thing.
Did you miss my voice today?
I miss your voice.
Did you cry today?
If so, let my hands
Clear the storm of your eyes.
Did you smile today?
I miss your smile
It has made life worthwhile.
How is school?
What have you learned?
What have you forgotten?

I need to know if you will eventually
End up forgetting me and all that we have.
I need to know if you still love me
And need me in your life.
Who, what, where, why, and when?
Your being is all I'm seeing.
Who, what, where, why, and when?
Your being is all I'm seeing.

Am I on your mind as you drift off at night?
Am I what you dream of at night?
Am I the first you think of when you wake up?
Do you gaze over at your passenger seat, longing for me to be there?
We would drive along holding hands listening to music for hours—
Does every little thing remind you of me?
Your love greets me at all hours.
Do you crave my lips as I do yours?
When you close your eyes can you feel me?
Does your body ache for my touch?
My soul wants to leave this body in search of yours.

I need to know if you will eventually
End up forgetting me and all that we have.
I need to know if you still love me
And need me in your life.
Who, what, where, why, and when?
Your being is all I'm seeing.
Who, what, where, why, and when?
Your being is all I'm seeing.
 May 2016 SweetCindy
I want someone to love me
like I'm the reason they exist
I want someone to spend hours
mapping and memorising
every inch of me
I want someone to ask me
about my deepest thoughts and desires
I want someone to know all my fears
and all my favourite things
I want someone to look at me
like my eyes are the sun
and my voice is the wind
and my anger is a storm
and my sadness is a
I want someone to lay with me
and run their hands through my hair
and be pained by how much they love me
I want to be loved so much that I feel it
wherever I go
I want to be loved so deeply
that on my darkest days and even darker nights
the love radiates out of me
and cocoons me in strength
and support
I want someone to love me so much
that they couldn't imagine a single second without me
I want someone to love me like I love them
I want someone to love me.
title not referencing the wonderful song by the 1975, though you should all give it a listen c:
 May 2016 SweetCindy
The morning light pranced
around the back of my neck
adding to the weight of expectations
that already leaden the empty
spaces of my book bag.

I tried to focus instead on the cool wind
that twirled around on the concrete platform,
and swam between our ankles,
it's leafy hands
shooing the sunlight from off my shoulders.

This morning (like any other) I was
content in my aloneness.
I knew what to expect from the other strangers
and I felt safer in the distance between us
even as we shared cold metal benches
and hand rails.

I was not there to make a friend.

My stomach wrestled with Anxiety
the only thing to offer was a sip of water
and a weak reassuring thought
as the subway train screeched her greetings.

The doors open.
Strangers out,
strangers in,
myself included.

With an unsure pace I entered into the labyrinth
of lines and tracks and stations
each with a confusing name and color and marker.
Momentum forced my feet to find my place.
Relief found in one empty seat.
Not for long.

You should have known not to.
My body told you no and built a wall
with my book bag and arms guarding
and pleading
to go away
to sit anywhere but here
to talk to anyone but me.
You didn’t listen.

Instead you sat beside me.
Instead you introduced yourself.
Instead you helped this stranger on the train.

And while at times life feels like a road, many times life feels like a train.

You showed me your favorite views
as they raced outside the window
and shared moments as I discovered mine.

We asked about the husband, the boyfriend,
the kids, and the dogs.
We shared memories and stories
and jokes and songs,
and slowly our strangeness became familiar

and then familiar became reliable.
We shared our space
inside the passenger car and rode
together to our separate destinations.

Stops come fast and goodbyes are hard
even when predicted,
but we never really said goodbye.
We smiled and made promises –
ones I tried to keep.

We are now on separate trains.
On separate tracks and schedules.
I sit again alone.
Things in many ways are the same
like the seat I try to get in the back corner
or the views I see outside my window.
But you left without saying goodbye,
without preparing me for the vacant
seat beside me.

I didn't know that was goodbye.

I didn’t know your empty promises
were actually your goodbyes
your signal for the stop to come.

Maybe we had simply been strangers on a train
passing the time,
without need of careful goodbyes.
And I am the fool who didn’t know.

I didn’t know this was goodbye.

 Dec 2014 SweetCindy
I see you and can't look you in the eye
I feel your presence as you pass by me and i can't feel your touch
I hear you speak and i can't just open my mouth
I see your footprints and i cant follow your steps
We both stare at each other and i look away
 Oct 2014 SweetCindy
 Oct 2014 SweetCindy
And little did she know
that love is a poison
now she is fighting for her life
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