[The lines of the hands formed a complex map]
The days pass by
[Reality hitting on the rocks]
Curve line erasing the good things of the past
2 drops of water falling on the way to the office
| | Old soundtrack passes over parallel tracks
Theater full, broken line
Days pass and pass
Birthdays pass, not words
Difficult to pretend to be well
No words happen
Places I’m not, line closed
Places you are not, closed line
Romanticism doesn’t feel the same as maps on our maps
2 parallel drops fall
The game hits me against the rocks
You don’t follow me in a straight line
[Reality catches me]
there are no words
there is nothing
The same lines
Now they are parallel
Your reality hits
[The lines in my hand no longer form a map]
- Codelandandmore // 4:00 PM ©
When did I become a joke to you?
When did I become the person you build up and up,
Only to tear down piece by piece by piece?
When did you start thinking it was okay to mess with my mind?
When did you start thinking that I was the perfect person
To break down and humiliate?
First I became your diary,
Then I became your therapist,
Next it was the advice giver
(Even though you never listened),
And now I’ve become the one you pretend to make plans with
Only to cancel at the moment you're supposed to arrive.
What gave you the idea that any of this was okay?
I’m so tired of the drama you bring.
I’m so tired of trying to help when you won’t listen.
I don’t think I can do this anymore
I don’t think I can be your friend;
Not if this is where it leads.
We planned an entire day,
And yet, here I am,
Writing this poem while watching TV
As I sit at home alone.
If you were looking for my breaking point
Then I can congratulate you on finding it,
You’ve finally hit the last straw.
This isn’t what friends do.
They are covered.
Covered in scars.
“Stop. Stop cutting.”
“Scars are just marks.
Marks that mean people put on your body.
They put them there because if people are mean,
You end up being mean yourself,” you reply
“Stop cutting. Please.”
“People who cut,
And have eating disorders,
Are the most gentle people
You will EVER meet.
They would rather hurt themselves than others.”
“You might cut too deep. You could hurt yourself. Stop.”
“Cutting is the only pain I can control. What’s the worst that could happen?”
“One day, your kids might see your scars.
And think it’s okay for them to do it too.”
You start crying.
“We all wish someone would notice.
But then once they do, we wish they never did.
You are that person.”
“I’m here for you.
I’ll listen to you.
I’ll hold your hand while you cry.
I won’t make fun of you.
You can tell me anything you want.
You’re not alright.
So quit telling me that you are.
I’ll stay with you all night.
I love you.
I can’t watch you silently suffer anymore.
I’ll help you through this.
Just one condition.
Not interested in pretty hearts,
happy people, shining stars...
Give me the broken to repair
Will heal the one in despair
Battle wound splintered heart
Blistered souls tearing apart
Love them with all my heart
Lit their life by taking their dark
These are the people kept on going
Had their fight but not showing
I Love the shades of melancholy
Call me weird, a phenomenal anomaly.....
And even after you think you are clear of all the pain, there are parts of you that might still require mending. You may have to immerse yourself within your darkness a few times... now again, in order to truly understand what is still broken inside you and how to piece your soul back together.
you are there,
but i can't see you
you are right beside me,
but i can't feel your presence
your eyes are staring back at me,
but they are nothing more than just eyes
we are nothing but strangers,
but those sweet smiles always there,
haunting my vision
are you even alive?
or is it just me imagining that you are exist?
I was broken.
Shattered remains of what I used to be.
Random misaligned pieces, sprawled all over the floor, crushed more by whomever would walk over them.
And then you came.
And you saw.
Each piece you knew was a part of something greater.
"Something beautiful," you said.
You helped me pick up the pieces, ignoring the cuts on your hands.
You kept me safe, so noone else would hurt me.
You found a broken girl, but you saw Kintsugi.