Who am I?
What have I become?
No solace in solitude
Solidifying my sadness
In singular significance
Silently stewing somberly
In sorrow
What can be done?
Your brilliance is overwhelming
Tearing and gnashing
At the corners of my mind
Your radiance and energy
Over charges my eyes
So much so
That I feel blind
And I can't unwind
Heart strings
Concentrically coiled
Around your fingers
Every step
Every word
Every noticed common interest
Highlighting compatibility
From now into infinity
Intrinsically
You pull those strings
Bringing me closer
Yet so far away
SLAM!
Rip and shred
My heart yanked from my chest
Knocking me breathless
A gut punch
Too high to jump
Too low to duck
My brain creates
Images of competition
And I'm losing.......
Who am I?
What have I become?
What is this?
And what can be done?

Drifting through the time
Trying to find who I am
Am I the sun or am I the moon
Maybe I am the darkness between the two
Dark thoughts and bright heart
Like a black sky and shining stars
Am I the future or Am I the past
Maybe I am the space between the two

Someday I hope to write something that will grow wings within your heart and let it soar high above all that weighs up your mind . I hope my words allow your soul to sing louder than the noise that clutters your abilities , and you release your magic light upon the darken world of all , whom walk seeing ,yet are blind.  I hope that my words are your life jacket as the current of life grips you ,and you swim ashore to those awaiting for your return . I hope when I’m gone from this life , my words are still used to guide you into a beautiful sunset at the end of the day. To know my simple words , allowed you to dance with tears , either of sadness or happiness, That’s what I wish of my written words .

Written by E. M . Rushton.
May 30th 2019 ©️Copyright reserved 2019

Every man that I have ever let inside me is you,
Mom.
Every man that I have ever let see me,
touch me, open me up.
Expecting them to tear down the walls that are hundreds of feet high,
just to walk right through
as if my guarded heart is a sliding glass door.  
As if they can see right through my frame.
They see me: bold, opinionated, strong.
But They all have all looked right though me, and can see the little girl who wants to be loved.
They told me they loved me.
Touched the hidden places that have hurt to touch,
as if they knew exactly where they could be found.
Only to treat me like a warm body for their cold. Blood.
They take me as a shell.

Because, like you Mom, they exploit me.
Use my weakness in seeing good, reading what makes me tick,
Learn to gain my trust.
Just to abandon me.
Like you.