I wanted to give him the world,
But how could I when he has it all,
So I write him words,
With hope that he'll find meanings,
In every string of melancholy,
From moments we first talked,
To the hours stretched between then and now;

I wanted to give him love,
The kind that only he deserves,
As patient and honest,
As trusting and generous,
Like how he's been with his,
Care and so tender,
No matter how hard or rough things get;

I wanted him to be happy,
Even if it means I'm not the reason,
Even if it means I'm not part of his life's equation,
Because some people were meant as a lesson,
And no matter what I say now it can't be undone,
So I ask the Lord to grant these 23 prayers,
For his heart to be bursting with love,
For his soul to find a mate to hold,
For his kindness to be repaid,
For another to care for him the way he used to care,
For stars to shine in his eyes,
For only smiles and kisses to touch his face,
For no pain will ever come to him,
For success to be his middle name,
For life to go easy on him even when it's tough,
For him to love the rain more than he should,
For him to see beauty that he once beheld,
For only warmth to touch him,
For him to be safe from danger and harm,
For him to receive the good he's given,
For no one to disappoint or let him down,
For appreciation shown to him when he expects it least,
For someone to touch his soul,
For someone to share his dreams,
For someone to give him beyond this world,
For someone to see him for a blessing from the very beginning,
For him to not be taken for granted ever again,
For his effort acknowledged,
For credit given where it's due,
Especially when he's worked hard to make your dreams come true.

@byizn

So it began, my life of pain
Covered in shame
Step-dad laid his claim

So it began, my life of woe
Down the rabbit hole
Some known how the story goes

So it began my life of tragedy
It happened so rapidly
It is now my woven tapestry

So it began, my life of regrets
Sadly it's not over yet
Impaled daily on life's bayonet

©Pauline Russell

How exactly am I going to be okay?
When everything I felt dearly, just became my worst nightmare.
When everything I held dearly, became the last thing I ever needed.
How did it ever come to this?
I should have never left you,
I should have never made you cry.
I am sorry, I am truly sorry!

Do you remember the questions
you used to ask about dying?
About grief and then pain
that wash over you in freezing pales of regret?
Are you supposed to remember every minuscule detail
before you completely forget?

You choke on your own verses
to convince yourself
and then everyone else
about acceptance--
the magic that should lead to recovery
yet, knowing that
most poems
are just lengthy epitaphs
for all the people
we refuse to bury alive;
that most poets die
as they try to relive
faded images,
wishing they could
turn back time.

There is love in lamentation--
in how the living die with the dead;
how years of November air
become the oxygen
that slowly suffocates them,
how the things they love most
create consuming black holes
they still succumb to
long after
their beloved's faux passing.

The way the smiles
Turned to tears.
The way the joy
Was crushed by insecurities and fears.

The way we went from snuggling
To bickering and namecalling.
The way the sparkle in your eye
Started to dim and eventual die.

The way you stopped saying
"I love you so much"
And the way your voice
Speaking in my head was made to hush.

The way everything
Seemed to implode.

Was it my fault?

Time keeps ticking in my head
As I think of all the beasts
hidden beneath my bed

The tight space in my skull
makes me feel claustrophobic.
Out of breath,
to rethink every thought is aerobic

Wasting minutes as I reacquaint
with every regret  
Wishing I could breath and finally forget


But here I am,  listening
to that clock in my head
that keeps ticking