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When you left
I presumed I would fall back into my abysmal void
But life moves on.
The sun still rises without you next to Me.
The world doesn't wither away.
Because
I'm stronger than you thought
I'm stronger than I thought.
life moves on
If I could see your true colors would you be a deep maroon or a lime green?
Would we mix and create a beautiful purple or create a muddy puddle that echoes "we don't belong together"
I wish that I could see your colors
then maybe
I could understand
why.
The world is so beautiful,
Through eyes purified by love.
Who knew
That one person
Could wash away the brokenness of this cruel world.
I love who
Relieve me from this label,
I cannot belong in this cramped space
That you decide I fit in
I don't understand why anyone would want to be confined
To just one thing.
You tell me I'm this,
Not that.
But why can't I be both?
Or neither?
Why conform?
Why conform when I feel so free just being
Me.
Why conform?
Though light persists to reach my eyes, I hereby reject this harsh reality. For it is easier to renounce something you cannot percieve.
I wish I had more time to think,
More time to cry with you,
Before you're gone.
But time is slippery as I try to grasp
The precious grains
Of my remaining hours with you.
I wish I could be strong for you,
But my sadness is uncontainable and flows out of my wallowing blue wells For eyes.
You clutch my sweaty palms,
Desperately struggling to hold on to
This life you want to keep living.
But as I watch the sparkle dim in your Eyes.
I know.
That it's a cruel world.
Why?
Fingers growing number, a twinge of sadness chokes my soul
Like the cold air of January, I fall deep into its pull.
It takes me on a journey, once before I have gone,
Where warmth's akin to weakness, and deeper I am drawn.
The naive wind for this adventure, whispers through my hair,
But I hope to forget, freezing what's no longer there.
"What was once here?"  The curious cold asked,

"The moment I share it with you, you will long for its grasp.
A comfort that is stolen, is one you'll never miss,
You'll soon forget the warmth, so the longing can't exist.
Rather just adaptation, adjusting to the pain,
And accepting that you will never, ever feel the same,"
It paused in my silence, but began to speak
Louder, its temperature brushing against my cheeks.

"I know your sadness is an attempt to move along,
In fear that a weakness means you can't remain strong.
But I assure you, my sorrow isn't easily forgotten,
Emotions are broken, twisted and knotted,
If I tried to lose one, and carry all the rest,
I'd be stuck and ever tangled with an ache inside my chest.
For pain isn't something one can simply leave,
Instead, we have to bask in it, and accept that we can grieve.
I understand the worry that a broken thought holds,
But to know a warmth, is to acknowledge the cold,"


Maybe it was right, I thought in the snow,
And went right back inside to grab a warm coat.
Guinevere Aug 2020
by gbeck1
Home is a person
Roaming the crowded streets yet still feeling alone because you belong to not one of those who pass you by
You fight the urge to reach out not because you fear change or risk
No. You are afraid to love. To be loved, complete and whole.
You thought it would hurt the most when the pieces didn’t fit. If you severed pieces of yourself away, gone forever, carving your jigsaw puzzle piece until its jagged edges were smooth enough to fit perfectly in his arms.
You molded yourself so intricately that the world believed your pieces were destined to be connected. Even you. But you were wrong.
When he left, your piece should have remained the way you so expertly crafted and cleansed it, shaping and reshaping like a mound of clay until you both were satisfied with the result. But the edges re-attached themselves within a week as if he was never there at all, so much so, you found yourself questioning if he was but a figment of your imagination.
This wasn’t love.
After a month, you forgot him entirely, his face fading from your mind’s eye and his whispered words detaching themselves from your soul.

Then came her. When you met her, you were nervous but tranquil in an instant, like a teen’s first high on a summer night.
A reverie of dreams and hopes, a lifetime you would share with her. Your fingers connected in a magical way, like when the final piece of a 1000 piece jigsaw puzzle has finally found its way to its rightful place.
You had an epiphany.
Never could you forget her, her scent of spring fountains and warm fire, the way her eyes crinkled into slits when she laughed, yet still they were the most mesmerizing thing you'd ever laid eyes on. The way she said “**** them. I love you.” as she tossed her short yet full blonde hair almost carelessly.
But you knew she cared because those breathtaking eyes were filled with
fear

And now she’s gone. And you're still lost in those moments wondering
Why?
Why did you have to love her?
Why did she have to be so perfect?
Why did she have to be your home?
It doesn’t matter now, but no matter where you are or who you're with, you will always be missing the final piece of your 1000 piece jigsaw.
You’ll always be homeless.
Guinevere Aug 2020
by gbeck1
I say my tears are salty yet bittersweet because they wash away yesterday's sorrows.
You say your tears are faulty; incomplete because you save today's for tomorrow.
Society's tears are split in memoriam,
Spilt blood and forgotten quarrels
Unforgiven wars of the past drag on today because we reassure ourselves the solution comes tomorrow, then comes overwhelming dismay,
When the past repeats itself.
what isn't comprehended by the masses is that change never truly happened, these wounds are incapable of healing themselves.
Ignorance is bliss, the tears were dried before they splattered by our parents' gentle napkins.
We can't bend over or fold because our hands were previously dealt.
But colour is beauty, a gratuity is a tip,
A race is something to be won in a movie,
Not an excuse to ignore beauty due to the colour he or she is.
Standards are a facade, we were led astray,
But i say i am not colourblind because our tears fall down the same.
Jayla A Murdock Jul 2020
we’ve been here before but this time it feels different
the numbness of my skin warding me from feeling,
again
what will rush the blood through these veins
what will give the feeling of dopamine,
no touch.
just self, feeling, being, living
overpowered by the numbness and the darkness that looms over as being okay seems to feel okay
are they one in the same?
confusion. delusion. happiness
this isn’t the rush our young selves yearned for
deluded by the imaginary happiness constructed from confusion within oneself
nights dreaming of what could be
never discerning the darkness of what couldn’t be
longing for life to be a feeling of dopamine,
no touch just...
being
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