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Isabella Mar 20
The gears in my mind that used to wind and turn so fast, are slowing. The ideas that never become words, die off. The tick-tick-ticking of pestering thoughts give up. And urge me to give up as well.
Why can't I process this train of endless emotions that long to
become stories? There once was a place in my mind that filled and
toppled over with wonderful ideas. But that place is now empty,
full of cobwebs and dust. Lost, buried deep inside me.
  How can I find it again? That place I'd go when the world shut me
  out and I just needed to express how I felt.
   I miss the days I'd feel lonely, and escape to the world of wonder
   I'd get lost in. The words, the powerful language... And I'd create
   something spectacular.
    But that gift was taken from me, ripped from my heart leaving an
    empty feeling in my chest.
     My power of writing unique ideas is gone.
      How do I get it back? Can I?
      I'm too weak. I can't search for those ideas. I'll never find them
      again.
      I let those brilliant thoughts slip from my grasp. They drifted
      away, soon to wither to dust.
     I am incapable of writing. Incapable of thinking. Incapable of
     loving what I write.
     So I may be unable to find those old words, but I can create new
     ones. It'll take effort, it'll take time. It'll take practice.
    But I am willing, to get my thoughts whirling again. To take an
    emotion, put it into words, and form those words into something
    beautiful. I'll sort my language for only the best, the most poetic.
   My feelings in the writing will swirl up from the pages and enter
   your mind and make you think, Wow... Who wrote this?
  But I am incapable of such a gift... I always have been.
So I'll drown in the dread I've made for myself. I'll swallow the
water of hopelessness as I sink deeper and deeper and deeper... I'm
incapable.
But at least I could make a poem out of it.
M Solav Dec 2019
Incapable d'agir. De quoi parlent-ils tous?
Est-ce encore un livre, la perte de ses pages?
Où que l'on creuse, là n'est pas la source;
Déduira-t-on ainsi qu'elle est introuvable?

Écoutant les murmures au travers du ciment
Encore qui mugissent des propos absurdes;
Puis d'une jointure, l’on cognera dedans:
« Encore et toujours vide, l'écho ridicule. »

Criant au secours, qu'on leur vienne en aide;
Celui de tout perdre, connait-on le sacrifice?
C'est donnant ainsi tout qu'enfin l'on nous cède
Le vrai pour et contre l'artifice.

Incapable d'agir. Que racontent-ils donc?
Lorsqu'ouvrir la bouche est un pas de trop,
À la course ils se ruent vers les fronts:
« Cette inertie qui maintient en sursaut. »

En ouverture vers le vide, voici le message
Des parois décousues d'un fort abyssal:
« Écouter le silence, le silence qui n'entend rien. »
Écrit en janvier 2016.


— Droits d'auteur © M. Solav —
Cette oeuvre ne peut être utilisée ni en partie ni dans son intégrité sans l'accord préalable de l'auteur. Veuillez s'il vous plaît contacter marsolav@outlook.com pour toute requête d'usage. Merci beaucoup.
__________
Incapable of love
Is what It feels
Not incapable to be loved
Or to love
But to let love live.

For love is just not the wish to keep
Love is in the effort to not let it leave.
Not just in dreams should love hold Love tight
Love is in not holding back love
In the fear of time when Love is not in life.
Love is in showing love right now before time strikes.
Love is beyond making love naked every night
Love is in walking out of the dungeon in broad daylight,
And breaking in front of his eyes
Without the fear of getting broken in time.

Incapable of love
Is what It feels
Even though It is loved
And It loves every being.
Yet never can love heal It.
For Love cannot be let in
Love cannot be let live.

Incapable of love
Are most lovely things.
kayla Jan 2019
Trying to process
how you don’t need me
like I need you
God. I wanted to be honest and talk. I just needed some cheering up, but clearly you fell asleep and I feel like you don’t care enough. And that really hurts. I would stay up to make sure your okay. I would have liked it if you did the same. That way I could’ve said goodbye.
ryn Nov 2018
My eyes can only scream

what my voice could not.

And my soul would only break

when my bones wouldn’t.
adept Jun 2018
i found that i am not entitled
to those who care for me most.
mainly because my heart
is incapable of returning the favor.
i try, believe it or not.
AD Snail Apr 2018
A brush of gentle lips,
A small innocent caress.
That gave her butterflies,
And heart beat shore with affection.

Eyes connect, caught like deer's in headlights.

A brush of torn lips,
A small innocent caress.
That gave me a stomach ache,
And heart beat dropped with dread.

Eyes fluttered closed, belief in it being a dream.

Entranced in a dance,
She is swept off her feet.
Time seeming to stop,
Mind made up that she is madly in love.

Hands creeping subconsciously to wrap around.

Enchanted in a pull of a dance,
Feet are heavy like there chained.
Time seeming to stop,
Mind finally catching up with the facts.

Tangled into the game of bittersweet love.

She has so much love,
She wishes to give it all to you.
Her eyes gleam with pure bliss,
Deeply drowned in maddened love.

That sadly has only one person wanting to play.

I am incapable to love,
I wished to return but I had none to give her.
My eyes gleam with glaze,
Deeply drowned in sorrow and regret.
Incapable to return the love that you oh so gifted upon me. For that I must apologies, I am incapable to love you my dear.
Sasha Feb 2018
How can one bring heat and love to another body,
when they are incapable of sensations
and can't feel at all...
How can one be expected to feel,
when numbness fills their soul...
How does one hold another,
when they can barely keep themselves together...
Nylee Feb 2018
why do I force myself to be perfect
                                 on all the things I touch,
it is so very obvious I am not
                     but the disappointment is much.

Every time I put the amount of efforts
             but there is something I always miss.

The expected output is not what I get
             results doesn't turn out like I wished.

It is easier to say it doesn't affect
                 when it does makes me miserable

And at every window there is in fact
                 a master showcasing her marvels  

What good am I to do at any instant
                                 when I feel so incapable

I am this blessed with a lack of a talent
                    I won't even make a good rebel.

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