I'll Never KnowI wish I could just talk to you.
To stay, and chat awhile.
To have met as high school classmates.
I wish I'd met you as a child.
But the only way I know is one
As daughter to a mother.
I'll never know who you truly are
And your many shades of color.
Who was the spark?
Who blazed that day;
Who was that summer child?
Caught between our Lord's sunbeams
And His loving Smile?
That summer child is still within
How I wish that I could meet her!
I'd hug her close, say, "It's all right!"
That nothing will defeat her.
I'll never know to look at you
With a special sort of awe.
Because I am a part of you
I was neither selected nor called.
Yet God chose the very best for you
Your parents; how we miss them so!
They're dancing in your honor, too
In a place we don't yet know.
And I will never really know
Your way of loving Dad.
That bond of decades-long friendship
And love through good and bad.
I'll never know what it felt like
To hold my brother that first time.
To feel him leave your body
Yet to fin
Almost...Almost to the end
Before I ever saw the start,
Close to the heavens and yet I...
Didn't see any stars.
Each and every moment passed
Faster than falling sand,
Going under, grabbing onto...
His now distant, earthly hand.
I wish I would have realized
Just a while before death came
Knowing would have changed so much...
Leaving only me to blame.
RepetitionWhat's the point of a heart?
That it beats with all of its might within your ribs, pounding at your lungs until you can't breathe? That it stops every time something bothers the weakly firing neurons up past the rivers of your veins?
What does it pump through your weary limbs but the icy cold blood that's trudging from your broken valves? They weep and sigh and cut themselves off in a tragic mobius twist. And without an end, what purpose does that familiar slamming and throbbing have?
Just to remind you that it's there, one would think.
Or maybe the point of the heart is to bleed what it receives. To keep the fluid flowing. Just to keep the spirits alive.
So, hi. I'm a girl. I like using fancy words. And Oscar Wilde.
Rule no. 1: Give a llama - get a llama!
Because llamas are awesome.
my wonderful cheshire-icon was made by Herzlose
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"By learning to allow different types of discomfort to simply stay in the room with you, without your scrambling for a button to push, you make discomfort matter less. The pool of things you’re afraid of shrinks. It becomes a lot less important to control circumstances, because you know you can handle moments of uncertainty or awkwardness or disappointment without an escape plan." - David CainToday I struggled, thought of this, and realised that I don't need an escape (which was my first go-to; run!). I need to slow down, and look at how I feel. I found it's not as insurmountable as it looks at first glance. I do not have to roll over and surrender to the feeling of "life is pointless, and then we die". I can do this. Breathe. I'll be fine.
2 days ago, I asked you to talk about us. I told you I needed clarity - about us.
Clarity is not what you gave me.
You gave me an inventory of your pain, and cited it as a reason
for you being momentarily incapable of love.
You told me that I could never help you; that you
HAVE TO DO THIS BY YOURSELF.
You told me that you couldn't handle even thinking of love. That you weren't ready.
You, who pursued me -
for months, the year before,
I wished you regret for what you did to me.
What you did to me was red -
red like love
red like blood
red like anger.
It was blowing yourself up
with me standind right next to you -
the blast threw me back, shrapnel tearing through my chest.
I wished to tell you, "hey -
But I said nothing at all.
That day, I didn't cry. I was filling myself up with anger to a point where there was no space left for
t e a r s.
I wished you regret.
And I was oh-so-tired.
Today, my anger was like the tide,
swelling to a roar and quietening to a small murmur
I think you are a hypocrite,
hurting me in the name of pain, because you said,
"people who put me first get hurt."
You broke my heart now so I wouldn't end up hurting later?
Oh, shut up.
It was not your mental health that pushed me away. That was YOU.
Take some fucking responsibility for this pointless pain -
this pain that I'm only in because you have to tear apart your chances at happiness -
for if you let yourself be happy once,
you run the risk of losing it again.
How do you love someone so hell-bent on self-sabotage?
How do you love someone incapable and unwilling to let you close enough
so you could actually help?
You pushed me away, and my heart, it shattered.
A heartbreak a year, if I keep going like this.
A part of me
- and this part is BITTER like the taste on your tongue after eating an entire lemon's peel -
can't help but think you've been preparing for this since December '16.
"Have you heard of the mean queen?
Her lovers were beheaded to the song of a violin..."