there is nothing left to give
of myself… utterly drained
and driven to distraction
i wish it were not today
this day of reckoning that comes
with such brutal constancy
for my heart is tired
and my mind is spinning
and my soul feels worn like
a flag left out too many winters…
this heat is draining any remnant
of sanity that i may still possess
and still… i will go to this destiny
as appointed, to relive the pain that
resides within the hidden closets
of my memory
Tag: pain
cruel illusion
i fear that I would wander the world
looking for that which already
lingers within me, afraid that
what is housed in my heart is
not enough to sustain love…
even as the sun shines
and the moon shines
i would question this because
darkness is a cruel illusion
that enters as friend and never leaves
oh! my cruel friend turned master
what would you have me do but feed
your emptiness with more of me?
what will be left of me?
songbirds weave a tapestry of
sound across the morning
as sunlight penetrates the leaves…
a cool breeze lightly tiptoes across
the growing heat
and cars sound as ocean waves flowing…
in the distance dancing with birds are
the trees-
and sirens pepper the landscape
with urgency…
day is breaking on yet another morning-
breath flows within me like a sage
i am no longer living
but rather coming of age…
is there anything that can dull the pain
of slowly dying? at this rate
i will be gone before the songbirds
finish singing
and what will be left of me?
pricked and beautiful
spent time in my garden
now my hands are lined
with marks from thorns-
roses and raspberries
red and bleeding,
tracks left from nature’s
mighty protection …
i feel the lingering pain
and think of my heart throbbing
shredded and raw like my hands
from the love you gave me-
pricked and beautiful-
but so hurtful
daughter
afraid to love you
fragile and special
like China you are to me
and I’m too rough to keep
you safe
i fear you might break in my hands
because i don’t know how to hold
you
my heart stays hidden from you
lest my darkness transfer…
you are so very special to me
two sides
peace what’s peace
but a false lie about what
we should have if we tried harder-
there’s no quiet…
the walls of the room are closing
around… chest tight throat closing
the sound of guitar masking the pain
feeling like a child on a rainy day
sun shining breeze through my hair
smile on my face
but what’s to be done when darkness
comes knocking at the door?
i run to answer it knowing that it’s an old friend
greetings and hugs- we get down to business
i’m simply sitting at odds….
two sides of me at once
peaceful happy smiling face and darkened brooding inside me
this heart
as the day slowly wanes
and sunlight softens behind
the clouds that cooled the heat
with welcome rain I think of
what my heart would say
if she could speak in a manner
i could fully understand
about our past together…
would she feel warm like I do now
under cover of billowing clouds
or would she hate, like I’ve learned
from pain…
i think my heart might like to sing
because my soul tells me that she’s
an actress
emptiness
this emptiness desires with
an unyielding passion
such that it would take a smile
and mistake it for flame…
a driving void of darkness descended,
voraciously eating any light that remains-
only to look to those dark illusions
to feed it more of the same…
distractions are a dangerous game
when emptiness sits
as the heart’s only companion
cold void
oh how I wish for some distraction
from the loneliness of my heart…
but all the pretty flowers have been plucked
and the baby birds fell from the nest
into the mulch
and all that was glorious about the sun
leaves my skin burned and aching…
so within the cold void I linger now
waiting for my secrets to bubble up
because nothing stays hidden forever
when the quiet has silenced all else
back to you
obsessive and unnatural-
the curves of thought
spiraling into dirty depths
of diseased memory, that link
back to you
dark and twisted passion, engraved
by a tortured tool, remain etched
within the walls of souls-
writing that predates first breath
and solvency
and these violent acts of love,
tied forever back to your touch,
remain within twisted fingers
bound by string- always
leading back to you
the SIBYL'S SONG 