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#absense
"out of sight, out of mind" they said then why do i still think about you?
0
Jan 1, 2020
Jan 1, 2020 at 9:07 AM UTC
Out of Sight, Out of Mind
In the midst of talking to my friend girl. She mentioned that she's been waking up in the middle of the night. Cold, unable to go back to sleep. We talked for a while longer, being our normal silly selves. Then she asked a not so unusual question but unusual question. She asked if she could borrow my heart, that she sought somewhere warm, comfortable. That here lately she hasn't been able to find such a place. Without hesitation I gave it to her. The blurred line of going through such lengths expecting the same sincerity to be returned. Ensuring that she would at least get a good night's sleep if nothing else hoping to put her mind at ease. We went for days, months even without so much as a single word being said. Given the things she'd normally go through it was quite understandable. What ever was mine I would have given until I found myself waking up later and later night after night. My dreams no longer existent. Without realizing I found myself in the same predicament. In search of a peace of mind. It wasn't until she appeared out of the blue. It put my mind at ease to see her happy, fruitful. We talked for a while. Laughing about everything that went on while separated from each other. But when the topic of sleep came up I asked about my heart. I noticed a brief hesitation. Choosing to confess without saying too much, she gave my heart back. Worn. No longer able to fit where it once came. When asked what happened she turned her attention to someone else. Seeking the same affection
0
Feb 22, 2017
Feb 22, 2017 at 9:45 AM UTC
Red Shirt, Worn Hearts
In the midst of talking to my friend girl. She mentioned that she's been waking up in the middle of the night. Cold, unable to go back to sleep. We talked for a while longer, being our normal silly selves. Then she asked a not so unusual question but unusual question. She asked if she could borrow my heart, that she sought somewhere warm, comfortable. That here lately she hasn't been able to find such a place. Without hesitation I gave it to her. The blurred line of going through such lengths expecting the same sincerity to be returned. Ensuring that she would at least get a good night's sleep if nothing else hoping to put her mind at ease. We went for days, months even without so much as a single word being said. Given the things she'd normally go through it was quite understandable. What ever was mine I would have given until I found myself waking up later and later night after night. My dreams no longer existent. Without realizing I found myself in the same predicament. In search of a peace of mind. It wasn't until she appeared out of the blue. It put my mind at ease to see her happy, fruitful. We talked for a while. Laughing about everything that went on while separated from each other. But when the topic of sleep came up I asked about my heart. I noticed a brief hesitation. Choosing to confess without saying too much, she gave my heart back. Worn. No longer able to fit where it once came. When asked what happened she turned her attention to someone else. Seeking the same affection
Continue reading...
24
*Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us. These, our bodies, possessed by light. Tell me we'll never get used to it* - Richard Siken there are two facts upon which you ground your love: 1. you are damaged 2. they are going to leave you do not come screeching out of your mother’s body believing this about yourself you learn how over time over minutes and months over years you meet people and take them into yourself wrap them in your chest so deeply you know they will never escape. they may exit your life walk away, go where you can’t find them; but not the presence of them the core of them the feeling of them inside of you beating and glowing and sighing like a heart not that. that will stay. you’ll make it stay you’ll teach yourself to grip onto those final remnants the way a dying person grips onto breath you will hold and hold and hold not letting go, not knowing how to you’ll grow a well of absence inside yourself and nurture it into a great and incredible yearning: this hall of memories within you these faces you cannot forget you will call it grief. you will call it mine the girl who shows you the truth is ballet and brilliance you watch her sideways on the bus where she sits with her mother, face swathed in light, profile outlined in radiance like the ring of a solar eclipse and you have only been around the sun nine times but god, the quiet, uncomplicated beauty of her, the straightforwardness of her warmth— she is the first person to whom you are not biologically linked who sees something more in you she notices your fire and tends to it until it becomes a towering blaze but the last night you see her you are sure you are going to die caught in the seats of theater in front of a stage on which this girl dances like she has nothing left to give but love and an utter lack of fear the last night you see her she embraces you and her hair is curled and her lashes are lined and her lips are rosy and you could scream out with what you feel but cannot explain the last night you see her the elevator doors close between the two of you, splicing your longing, sending you off onto your own barren continent the last night you see her you learn that you love and people leave and that the people you love leave and that this is a truth you almost cannot bear [*how to turn my grief into something powerful how not to equate my longing with something flawed, something ugly how to rise again how to survive*] these are the things you ask yourself now when you are naked and alone in your loss these are the questions you stay alive to answer because yes, you are damaged and people leave but that is not everything there is to this filthy-heavenly existence you cannot seem to escape you carry your sorrow like an old handbag but you are growing tired of its weight preparing to incinerate it and spread the ashes the way you spread your devotion: bravely, and now, without remorse you are learning that you are damaged and wonderful, scarred and sacred bruised and divine they are going to leave but you will go on in spite of it you will go on because this is all you have you and your heart and your overwhelming forward momentum your love
0
Jan 11, 2017
Jan 11, 2017 at 1:45 PM UTC
the handbag
*Tell me how all this, and love too, will ruin us. These, our bodies, possessed by light. Tell me we'll never get used to it* - Richard Siken there are two facts upon which you ground your love: 1. you are damaged 2. they are going to leave you do not come screeching out of your mother’s body believing this about yourself you learn how over time over minutes and months over years you meet people and take them into yourself wrap them in your chest so deeply you know they will never escape. they may exit your life walk away, go where you can’t find them; but not the presence of them the core of them the feeling of them inside of you beating and glowing and sighing like a heart not that. that will stay. you’ll make it stay you’ll teach yourself to grip onto those final remnants the way a dying person grips onto breath you will hold and hold and hold not letting go, not knowing how to you’ll grow a well of absence inside yourself and nurture it into a great and incredible yearning: this hall of memories within you these faces you cannot forget you will call it grief. you will call it mine the girl who shows you the truth is ballet and brilliance you watch her sideways on the bus where she sits with her mother, face swathed in light, profile outlined in radiance like the ring of a solar eclipse and you have only been around the sun nine times but god, the quiet, uncomplicated beauty of her, the straightforwardness of her warmth— she is the first person to whom you are not biologically linked who sees something more in you she notices your fire and tends to it until it becomes a towering blaze but the last night you see her you are sure you are going to die caught in the seats of theater in front of a stage on which this girl dances like she has nothing left to give but love and an utter lack of fear the last night you see her she embraces you and her hair is curled and her lashes are lined and her lips are rosy and you could scream out with what you feel but cannot explain the last night you see her the elevator doors close between the two of you, splicing your longing, sending you off onto your own barren continent the last night you see her you learn that you love and people leave and that the people you love leave and that this is a truth you almost cannot bear [*how to turn my grief into something powerful how not to equate my longing with something flawed, something ugly how to rise again how to survive*] these are the things you ask yourself now when you are naked and alone in your loss these are the questions you stay alive to answer because yes, you are damaged and people leave but that is not everything there is to this filthy-heavenly existence you cannot seem to escape you carry your sorrow like an old handbag but you are growing tired of its weight preparing to incinerate it and spread the ashes the way you spread your devotion: bravely, and now, without remorse you are learning that you are damaged and wonderful, scarred and sacred bruised and divine they are going to leave but you will go on in spite of it you will go on because this is all you have you and your heart and your overwhelming forward momentum your love
Continue reading...
119
His demise, caused by his mind, Was hardly fair. But the universe doesn't cater, Neither does it care. My father, oh father, You once had much to say; But you lost hold of your mind, On one fateful day. Your sickness, It was adamantly there, That's why I won't complain about this burden, Which is wholly mine to bear. Deep down in the ground, You now lay, And I wish I'd known you more, for All I have are distant memories of play. Little boy, Dutiful father, Playing together, Without a bother. I know where you hid, Where you went, You became lost in your mind, Wholly spent. But still, Sometimes I let myself ponder, What we could have had together, If you mind was not forced to wander
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Nov 25, 2015
Nov 25, 2015 at 2:25 PM UTC
My Father, Oh Father
He had dark curly hair And always-smiling eyes Everytime I picture him now He grins at me But he's long gone now Taken by the wind of youth And family Removed from my side As time was passing If I were to see him again There's no telling what I would do Would I cry? Would I ignore him? He was my best friend But he's gone again As if I never knew him As if we were never friends
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Oct 27, 2015
Oct 27, 2015 at 10:16 AM UTC
Never Friends
Heights Im afraid of heights They asked me what made me shake And I just told them heights But really, really truly, I must say thats a lie I am scared of falling From the cliffs or from the sky Or maybe really, truly, Into someones mind Because everyday I think of us And how we used to be Heights dont truly make me shake Just the absence of you and me
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Dec 18, 2014
Dec 18, 2014 at 8:17 AM UTC
Our Heights
I was too busy dealing with everything else To realize you were a crisis So I swiftly And utterly too efficiently (With a practiced hand, no less) Swept you away Today (Far too little, far too late) I sat down to breathe And the crushing blow (The almost crippling loss) Of your absense Hit In the morning, I'll resume life At top speed, no doubt (Which you resented for its- my- rigidity) But for tonight I'll sit still with you (Isn't that what you wanted anyway?)
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Sep 2, 2014
Sep 2, 2014 at 11:06 PM UTC
Too Little Too Late
I hold you so deep in my heart When I listen to my soul Your constant ringing, Is still guiding my every step. You have left me and even if not by choice The anger, The sadness, Is still drumming in sync with my heart. Your memory is like a withering flower. Slowly starting to bend slowly, dying What am I to do? I share my water, my food, even my love. But your time is up I hold that dead flower so gently in my hands But still it crumbles Being the fool that I am told I am I try to mend the broken petals back together In hope that somehow You will bloom once again Into the beautiful flower That I remember you to be That is still in my dreams...
0
Apr 22, 2014
Apr 22, 2014 at 4:11 PM UTC
The Withered Flower