The sound of your heart.

-
Your heart is broken but your whole body hurts. You try to listen to it, but all you hear is static noise. you try to tell yourself that's okay, and that there is more to your life than your heart ache, Then you get into bed at night, thankful to be back in a safe haven under the covers.
where you can cry alone and not be judged for being so weak to another human being, where you can sob your fears, chock on your sadness, and allow yourself to be a complete mess without having to worry about what anyone else would say or think, when all of our lives we are taught to be independent. 
And after a silent moment in the dark, you swear that your heart is completely crushed and it just can’t hurt anymore, it turned into specks of doubt and pain, you feel hollow, you blame yourself, for the damage they caused, you also blame them,
so you fall asleep praying to God that you don’t dream of them for another night in a row. Then you wake up the next morning with,somehow, a whole heart again but like clockwork, the cycle starts over and the pieces begin to fall
piece by piece, and by nightfall you're left with nothing but the expanding void within.   

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

mirror

-
My thoughts are not holy, My body isn't a temple It's not a sacred space It's tender flesh and a fragile spine, It's nothing remotely divine, It's belimished skin and visible markings, I know there is solace in metaphors, in similes, in saying things not as they are but as what they're like,  in trying to compare what you can't understand to what you do, Maybe only then it will make sense, Trying to simplify it, pulling threads and tying ends and loosening knots, trying to make it look familiar, But it is almost never accurate, Words are just letters, More times than not they hold little to no significance. Little to no reassurance, little to no validation, Sorry , a half hearted apology Always met with sincere acceptance. 
Read more

The apartment

-
 When I think about my ideal house. I think wide balconies,  I think penthouse,  I think small yet not claustrophobia inducing.  I think roomy but not huge.  I think large but just enough to house two people and a pet, preferably a cat.  I think walls, muted yellow and forest green,  I think walls that you can pin me against and kiss me. I think walls, unlike the ones I keep around my heart, that aren't prone to crumbling at any hint of tenderness. I think walls I can hang up pictures of us. Crappy art I make and posters of your favorite things. I think of walls that have ears but never heard screaming or anger, I think of walls that have never witnessed disappointment.  I think of warm nights and cool breeze and long hugs and affection unaccounted for. 
Read more

The Quest.

-
I know regret when I see it, I spot it easily on your grey blotted aura. It glistens through your bloodshot eyes,  the windows of your soul, one glance is more than enough to recognize it. You have taken it upon yourself to seek redemption, From things you have no control over, but it never hurts to try. The sought after resurrection of what have been long dead will drain you, yet, you carry on, with a broken compass and a useless map, determined to revive what was once alive, reclaim what was once yours, But you can't seem to find it. That missi ng thing. You tell yourself that you've got nothing to lose and maybe Just maybe This time there will be a different outcome. A lie you cradle along with the truth. And when you go back to where you started, You swallow your pride and  disappointment, Like splinters of wood,  But your insides are lined with sandpaper, your spine is made of steel, and none of it longer fazes you.
Read more