Wilted Words

First, I have to get out of this place, I have to leave this claustrophobic room, I am already at the door, Please forgive me. I have only a moment to reflect on the pain before it engulfs me, The accompanying humiliation will not allow me much more than that, A traitor, Who doesn't deserve to live, I am so stunned that for a moment I can't even move, We don't forgive. I am pressing my fist to my mouth, Because truth is, I am nothing but a coward, And some days I wonder why I insist on keeping myself alive. I take another steady breath, You'll be alright, we promise. I am no longer feeling gracious. I am surprised to discover how much I enjoy the bitterness. I fall against the wall and crumble to the floor, I collapse, But now, they're here, They're holding guns, And pointing it at my head, Pointing it at my heart, What is happening to me ?

I have lost my words. I lost them somewhere in a pile of papers, unfinished, scribbled down on pages, discarded, like a neglected child. I have lost my voice. I think I have lost it in a canyon with no echo, or maybe I've forgotten that I have one to begin with, how can I dare to speak when I know everything coming out of my mouth is a failed attempt of tenderness ? I think I have lost my mind. Trying to figure out how to be. The riot of emotion in side my chest hurts , and my soul is bruised. The constant battle is wearing me out, Draining me, Drowning me. I don't know how to breathe, I don't know how to be. With so many rules set out, and so many laws I seem to be ignorant of, I have lost so many times, Against the people I love, Against myself, Against the world. I try to tell myself that I am okay. Like useless words of condolences coupled with genuine sympathy, I tell myself that I will be okay, Like the frail promise of cure to a terminal illness, ...

I am not going to lie this time, or deny the truth that's been staring right at me for so long, I am not going to overlook what seems to be undisputed. the truth, they say, hits you when you least expect it, it doesn't blindside you, though, because you have no one else to blame but your self. you weren't prepared, whether you like it or not, the time has come. you can't run away, you can't hide of what's been haunting you, taking away your peace, robbing you of your safe and sound sleep, you think time can heal you, but I am afraid, time is not on your side on this one, all you have is the truth that you are trying to ignore, Along with the unforgiving memories and thoughts, not allowing you to have closure, not redeeming you of your own doubts and mistakes, no matter how sorry you are, no matter how many times you utter words of apology, there are things you can't erase, there are things you can't undo. This is the truth that bites...

This world is beautiful, But it's a poem that everyone interpret in their own unique way, So often I encounter people who can't see beyond the bubble they locked themselves into. The world is such a beautiful place, so often people take its beauty for granted, Or they don't even see it, They don't bother to look, And no one is truly happy with what they have, They get caught up in prisons of their own making, Mothers are grumpy, Fathers are angry, Workers are tired and desperate, Teenagers are lost, Kids are learning the wrong things. All the young ones are chasing clouds of dreams, Chasing things they can't have. And the world is beautiful but it is doomed, When no one cares to make it a better place, The world is coming to an end.

My heart beats sounds like a drum in my ear and I am taking short shallow breaths to steady my self. I hide in the bathroom but it's pointless, even if I stay here for an hour it won't calm me down. I look at the mirror and I hope I don't look as nervous as I feel. I picked up this outfit a week ago, when you called me and told me you wanted to finally meet me. My nerves got the best of me and I think about leaving, What if he doesn't like what he sees ? A hundred things could go wrong, but it's too late to back down you'd be here any minute. I check my face for the third time, inspecting my features as if they were foreign, I hope I am not wearing too much makeup or too little. I want to be just about right. I wash my hands without necessity and I head out. Calm down . I try to match the rhythm of my heart to my steps, slow and steady. And I catch a glimpse of you. You walk in the front door elegantly, not a weight on your shoulder. The l...

As I look at the shoe box hidden under my bed, I wounder, how absurd it is to try to tuck someone's entire existence in such a small space. How could all the memories fit there, all the thoughts and late night conversations, All the fears, the nicknames, the inside jokes, And the secret codes. They are just ink on paper now. They're just soft whispers that I barely remember, They're nothing but remnants of a dead body of the love that we murdered. I don't dare glance or stare at it, This box, Is the monster under my bed. This box, Is the voices in my head. Of maybes and what ifs, Of what could've been said or done. Of the words we couldn't say, And the things we shouldn't have said. And still, I wonder, Will I ever be while again ? Will I ever have the heart to erase your memory, And create myself again, Apart from you. Will I ever stop searching for myself between your words ? I can't be the only one living like this, I don't ...

In a year or two, none of this will matter. It might take longer than you expect, or maybe it won't take as long as you might think it would, after all, time is a man made concept, and anticipation seems to alters the duration of waiting for things to end or begin. There are a few things, though, that would help you endure the following sufferings,  The suffering of maybe . .. The uncertainty.. The doubts creeping up on you every day, every minute, every second... The potent yet pale fear of not ever being who you want to be and that all your efforts and attempts are futile and the you will never be enough... The unfamiliarity of how cruel and uneducated or indifferent you are some times, The strangeness of your own self some times, Or how you tuck your flaws and enemies safely in your bed every night, snoring, non bothered and insolent, not allowing you a good night sleep. The enormity of these things will overwhelm you, at some days, I am not going to lie to you. These...