Tuesday 9 January 2024

Ready to heal

 Reading back at my old prompts I see a child, a girl

Not a victim

But 

Not a villain


I wish I hadn't been pushed in your direction

I wish you had been my guide


You were older, after all.


You were all older


And you saw me fall into the hole and you walked away


I made my mistakes, of course.  But I didn't deserve to be abandoned at my most vulnerable


To you, my sweet young one,


You are so full of love and life, and you will get in trouble a couple of times

But it's only because you are so eager and excited for love and for life, and you deserve all of those. You just need time to get to know yourself. 

To find your boundaries,

To gain the trust of others,

And to fight for your sense of self.


I'm sorry we all failed you and left you alone when you needed a guide



_______________________________________

Now I see how those scars hurt me still

I'm so afraid of myself

Of my own power 


I'm alluring and charming. Charismatic and pure

I'm flirtatious and curious and loud and empathetic.


My impulsively is fuled by Joy and excitement and I've learnt to fear it.

How sad is that?


I'm ready to trust myself

I'm done with punishing myself

And fearing my own voice.

I want to hear my own voice and not cringe and drink a glass of wine and be drunk while I enjoy the feeling. And in the morning when the hangover comes along I'll say "well at least i had fun"

I want to share exactly what I want to share and not be a masochist when I cross the line. 



Impulsively



I want to find the gas pedal and I want to find the brake, but in reality

 I need to figure out what my speed limit is.


I go 0 to 100 and nothing in between

Or

Maybe

I just need to work to accept


I feel the need to physically restrain

The excitement

The fear or punishment

Punishing myself?


That sounds like the old me


I'm sorry I'm a curious

Girl

I'm sorry I'm afraid of this 

World


I'm sorry....

Sorry for being sorry.


When we were kids you liked this part of me

You were like me


I just wish I knew how to be

Not like...


A heavy sky full of stars

Weighing down over my head

I'll just go on Instagram and forget about it


My golden retriever spirit needs to be housetrained 

For you to feel comfortable 

With

Me


But what about my comfort?


Sunday 16 December 2018


It started off as a tiny candle flame...
Something strange happened between us and I can't react
And now everything we love has been burnt
I'm hurting everyone around me
I can't talk to anyone.
The flame keeps catching more trees.


I blamed you for the fire
But didn't realize I was the one holding the lighter
You poured the gasoline but I'm the one that lit it up.



You know what you do, how you do it. You drive me mad because you know you can.
Impulsive, and I can see it's gotten you in trouble before. She feels fully with every inch but has it under control. So much control, when she does act  it's frightening


She carved the same design on me as she did on that little piece of wood. Something between a flower and a fruit. I was the blooming color. The brilliant tones of peach and navy. The ones that made her skin stand out and her lips seem redder and her eyes bigger. You saw me through those intense gazes, but not as someone you wanted to seduce. No, it was more than that. You wanted to create me. I was fresh, maleable, ready. I was your music in action.


If you ask me I know I'll lie
Because the uncertainty must someday die
I'm unloyal and unsure
The words are true
But I want it all
I want the summer and the fall
I want my systems of belief
I want the torture and relief
I want to know that it will end
But then I want it all again
Why do I crave the pain?
The sleepless nights of starved refrain
The melancholy and sustain
But for you it seems worth it
I've never been one to moan
Over spilled milk I never owned
And while the clouds encompass the sky
My words get better to describe
This fucking limbo that I'm swimming in
And the water seeping into my skin


Don't tell me that it's love
Just pretend that I'm not there
Cuz you're making it harder for me
To make believe that I don't care
The stars align in your eyes
When you look at me
As much as I hold back
You're the only thing I see
When day turns into night
It's harder to hide it
This odd diversity of misery and joy
Always for you but never yours


It's me. I'm the one that exists with a trail. I'm the hurricane. The one that changes the landscape I step on and breaks trees at their  root. The one that leaves bruises on skin I touch.

New Moon


New moon
Don't tell me you're there because I can't see you
And what good does that do?

Friday 20 November 2015

This happened on the same day.


How sweet
How warm
Is the pink
Of a Sunday

Lazy
Woolen
Despite
the heat.

Comfortable
Despite tight jeans

Expansive
Despite restrictions
Mapely
Crunchy

Heavy air
In the light breeze
And a hand in an eye
Reaching out to stroke your hair
And kiss the honey on your skin.



How easily can a paper
cut skin.
How it seems so harmless and clean.
Craftsmanship of every sort.
A blank page full of possibilities.
And yet just as easily it can slice right through your skin.
Small, seemingly insignificant cuts
That manifest later on
With searing pain.
There is a certain pride to be had in the claiming of constant pain.
"Never have I not felt it," as the cameras watch in the still darkness.
The sorrow the viewer feels is intevetable. The desire to care, the desire to comfort.
Silence passes between two entities.
The block of quiet is filled with pondering.
An eternal throb of ghosts weaves its way through the railing of the staircase, and the cameras just watch because they don't know what else there is to say.

Our lips move in sync.
The rhythm takes us in.
The constant beat of a bass
Moving us further in a sacred trance.
Magic hands explore the territory.
Tracing the edges of consciousness
The rhythm remains constant,
But a minor build
Results in
An explosion
And we drop.

Two entities

Two entities from different universes
A slow, gentle crash.
No casualties
But two
Magic hands contract.
Words unsaid make them linger.
Words unsaid that,
Like a piano hanging from a thread can drop in a second
And crush
Us
What can we be if our
Touches are tainted with
A thick, dirty guilt?
I cried for you last night.
Or was it for me?
You said your cheeks were wet
You didn't hear me when I told you
The tears were mine.
I'm destructive, you said.
And in short, I was afraid.
I want to take you to the mountains.
My chest fills with warmth.
I never thought it was possible for a plant to wrap around a brick house.
But in retrospect, of course it does.
How was I so blind to something so blaringly obvious?
Vines wrap around anything solid.
And brick houses just sit there, motionless as the world around it happens.

White staircase

We sat on the staircase, vulnerable to each passerby.
Eyelashes soaked.
Lips red.
Three words said,
Yet three words is too little.
Three words that are supposed to bring the sky bring the ocean instead.
We fear death by water.