A protector,
a brother once but now it’s me.
He wanted not
to have to care for the boy.
Because of his own hidden hurt.
His own disconnect
from his little boy.

The hurting part wants Dad.
Is heartbroken.
Afraid for himself,
of himself,
and all alone.
Just wants
to be held.
Wants to feel safe.
Loved through the pain.
Seen.
Acknowledged.
Recognized.

They say to not
open old wounds

When the heart
is longing for
something more

What else do you
have left to lose?

The world is spinning
slower when your world
comes to a halt.

But I want you to know
it's not your fault.

Emotions are a roller-coaster:

The ups and downs,
looping around until
you've reached your stop.

There's no set destination,
and you've got nothing
but your imagination

Leading you places,
you never thought
you'd go.

Just take it slow,
and everything will
fall in place.

It's not a race,
just take it
at your own pace.

So, when they say to not
open old wounds,

And the heart
longs for something
more,

Don't be afraid to
open new doors.

You don't have to rub salt in my wounds
Say it to my face
Stand my feet on the ground
Leave my place without a trace

Move on, forget them
Condemn them, or be solemn
For they only gave me misery
Instead of love and mercy

I came back but ran away afterwards
Feeling scared, like the deer in the headlights
I see flashing signs, but it was what I thought it was
But isn't she lovely
Isn't she pretty

What does a pretty girl like you feel
Oh behind that pretty smile, hides the darkest secrets I was afraid to tell
Oh no one wants to know
But I'm too intrigued to show
Hey, I know, I thought it will only take me a while
I felt like I'm dying inside

Mask my pain, only anger remains
Leave thy past behind, they've been blind
But too foolish to mind
Mind games play thy minds
One wants to turn a blind eye, and a numb death
Makes me bleed, make them repent
Hollows are deadly, poison ivy

You told me to jump,  
take the risk,
take the leap of faith.
I jumped out of trust,
expecting to fall right into your arms.
Instead I met hard ground,
a thin layer of rocks.
Cuts, bruises, and wounds
Crushing, suffocating pain
Yet I only cried the moment I realized you betrayed me.

you open the wounds I’ve sewn together
I barely realize until I find myself bleeding
drip drip drip
you clean it up and we’re back to like it never happened.

another
new year
yet i carry all the same
wounds and bruises

She stole my poem,
and so did my heart.
She stole my love
and made days full of open wounds.
She came back,
complaining that she couldn't spell
the words I had written to her in my poem, "how this love is so silent?"

It happens with all the holes and wounds: they grow their own face, mend their gaps, heal their rifts — those new skills of yours are but entities that emerge: to grant shelter, to stand guard, replace the old, thicken the crust, weather this human storm — through and through.

But will the skin ever return to its soil? It linger on forevermore. How tight its grip? How hardened its sappy brooks? When will it nourish those delicate roots anew?

These thoughts arise as doubt breaks free. It pours and flows as I gaze down and lower still. Shadows seep and leak as the wheel spins and drills the soul evermore hollow. Anonymous is our tree of life, but it keeps faces in store.

For it happens with all the holes and wounds: they bleed, they mend, they heal — and what don't they do as I stand here, as I bend, as I kneel — as I carve these seats in shapes of departure. Those skills thicken under my feet like growling tremors.

My past was but a dream — and I'm ready to slide like a crumbling leaf. My weariness is universal. My knowledge heavy. There cannot be a conclusion. I am growing thin.

Let me feed those roots anew.
Through and through.