Enough

Pounding footsteps through

empty halls

where dreams go to die

and illusions melt

in acid promises.

Where hatred filled tears

hide under golden smiles

and broken hearts hide

behind boisterous laughter.

Every haunted fear

affirmed and

agonized yearning

pulled and snapped

like a puppet’s strings

at the hands of a master–

skilled beyond understanding.

Insecurities breathe down

the neck of the beast

that eats at the belief

in value beyond temporary

and agony filled breath

chokes the voice that continues

to say quietly

“One day I will be enough”

Tired

I’m tired of living on coffee and dreams
while others breathe
tired of bleeding crimson tears
to free myself
exhausted from lifting legs
weighed by expectations
and filling the cracks with
layers of paint
sick of playing other people’s games
being moved like a chess piece
two forward and one to the side
I’m tired of being taken by force
or guilt
silently crying refusals
instead of screaming
tired of falling apart
while making it look easy to smile
Tired of swallowing stories
never meant to exist
I’m tired of fear
and going along
because I don’t want to go back
worn out from balancing on one foot
on the peak of pressure.
I’m tired of gasping for air
and tired of pushing
the self destruct button
waiting for the explosion while
being tied to a chair

The Sea

The gentle rolling waves fell in to the shore, rumbling and moaning with each swell.  The woman sat at the edge of them letting the water lick at her toes and slide its way up to her knees.  In her mid-thirties, she was trapped in the void between young and old, naïve and wise. I could just slip under the sea. She thought to herself. No one would know. I could just slip away. She felt the cool salty bath wash through her toes and lowered her head to watch the rhythm. The slightly unsteady beat matched her hiccuping thoughts.

Her mind drifted to her career- rewarding and fulfilling, one of the pleasures in her life where she felt whole. She escaped in to the day to day harmonies and the expected phrases of time, but the chords swiftly shifted away from melodies to broken strings and the weight of the darkness that haunted her. Is it enough? She asked the sea. The waves groaned their response and faded back in to rolling rhythms while she ruminated in the heartaches that she towed behind her.

The deep cello sounds of the water reminded her of the loves that burned through each heart-string with slow fire. She let herself delve in to the forgotten memories. First to the young loves that brought a gentle smile to her face as she thought of the innocence and naivety of it all. The seventeen-year-old version of herself who danced the night away in the arms of the eighteen-year-old boy under the stars after sneaking her parents’ whiskey and the summer loves that arrived and faded with the sun. And, like the sun, those memories dipped below the horizon and left room for the dusk to creep in. She closed her eyes and breathed in the air, heavy with the realization that none of the loves had stayed.  Memories of fists that broke her spirit made their impact felt once again and she looked to the ocean for answers that never came.  She believed that we are never given more than we can handle but wondered if maybe this was the final swell.

Sweet songs played in her mind as she thought of the man who opened her eyes to the potential for good. For a moment there was hope of a connection that would feed her lonely soul.  The memories of kind words and the tight safety of warm arms filled the movies in her mind. The smile that had burst its way forward at a thoughtful message teased the corners of her mouth just long enough that she could almost feel the happiness in her stomach once again, but that sensation was as fleeting at the belief in the hope. Foolishly, she’d let him crack through the tough shell she had built over time. In a matter of minutes, he had found a way to flake away a piece of the wall. She had risked too much, too fast, deluded by the fantasy of being free of the chains that bound her. But, as quickly as she had taken her place on the presented pedestal, the balance tipped, and the fall had been painful and filled with regret and shame. Never again, she’d sworn. Never again will I believe the words I know to be false. Never again would false flattery be her downfall. She knew better now than to hear the words as anything other than manipulation. She was not amazing and wonderful. She was not a force. She was an unnoticeable breeze. And back she went to her battered soul and the grip of what is known.

She could see the tapestry of her life in the swirling tides. The amount of times she’d let go of her dreams to help someone keep theirs bubbled around her feet. So little of the story of her life was about her. She was a supporting character in the film. She silenced her voice and tempered her needs and gave herself willingly to others while trying to carve pieces of herself in to her skin. She stood tall and played her role almost to perfection. No one would ever have known that this wasn’t the whole picture. She laughed loudly, danced boldly and was the light in the room. She wondered how much of herself she’d lost along the way giving the impression that she was okay in order to take care of others. She’d take the pain so someone else didn’t have to.  I’m not ok. No one hears me.

She tasted the salt on her cheek as she replayed lost friendships and the tightrope walking along the edges of the circle of people in her life. She was like the puzzle piece that you turn again and again, convinced that it’s the one when clearly the fit isn’t right. The heaviness of plans made in front of but without her made her hunch slightly as she picked up lumps of sand and let them fall between her fingers.  Smiling photographs and “wish you were here” captions reminded her that she was never invited in the first place. No one “wished she was there” – no one thought to ask.  She wiped away the mourning for those who crumpled her up and threw her aside forgetting her story wasn’t done being written yet. Or maybe it is.

What’s it like? She asked the sea. To have people see you for who you are?  She could almost hear the comments about beauty as though they were being said in that very moment. From the scathing cuts of teenage awkwardness to the lies of “you’re beautiful” as men took what they wanted and gave nothing in return, the words burned so badly the skin almost peeled off in layers. No one ever sees past my face. There were few people who wanted to know anything beyond the surface and those who did left quickly. She wished she’d been born different- either so beautiful that she could see what they saw or so ugly that it didn’t matter. Maybe then, she wouldn’t fall so easily for the lies and grasp empty air while tying to find a hand to hold. Maybe then she wouldn’t be denied genuine conversation, maybe then the hand that forced its way in uninvited never would have come.  Maybe then…

The game of “maybes” continued to play in her head as she stood and stared in to the never ending blue. Maybe this really is the best it gets.  Maybe. She took a step. Maybe people would stop assuming she never needed anything. Maybe. She took another step. Maybe she wouldn’t feel so forgotten by those she reached out to. Maybe the deep would bring back the dreams. Maybe crashing tides could break a stalemate against the world. Maybe the emptiness would melt away with the saltwater bath. Maybe. She dove under the dancing waves. Maybe.

Maybe not. Said the sea.

We, the Unloved

We, the unloved

stand in solidarity

never touched by a hand

in true love

kissed only for ego

and screwed to feed

someone else’s soul.

We, the unloved

raise a hand in recognition

of broken hearts

and unwarranted fantasy that

plays out in dreams

of a non existent better life.

We, the unloved

know the game is played

but fall for her plot,

always the pawn

in someone else’s story.

We, the unloved

get lost in dreams

and pray for sleep

as we disappear

once again in to false comfort.

We, the unloved

wait desperately

to be

anything

but

“un”

Smothering Dark

I am

utterly alone

through darkened hallways

narrowing and caving in

with every step.

The bag of bricks on my back

makes for impossible steps

and no means of escape

from the fading light.

Somewhere in the dark

you lit the candle,

let me dance with the flame

for a moment

but a quiet look means nothing

and when a soft sneer

you sniffed it out.

Now as the dark closes in

I’m fumbling though

corridors of pain

being smothered by the

weight of night.

I am

utterly alone

in the shadow you left

in the already hallow room

left groping in the dark

for the glimmer

that was but a

creation of the mind

and a hallucination

of my every craving heart

Beyond Beauty

Beauty is pain

but the pain isn’t in the beauty

it’s in the expectations and beliefs

that beauty never hurts

Beauty is empty

left on sidelines and wandering

through crowds of sidelong glances

of judgment and desire

Beauty is used

feeding egos and fantasies while

leaving stains on a fading heart

that weeps and reaches

Beauty is nothing

only stained cheeks and bruised wrists

with distant eyes pleading

for someone who looks

beyond the beauty

My mistake

I made the mistake
I broke the skin
and let you see
the cracks within

It was not by choice
when I was weak
You found the
Manipulation you seek

To wear me down
You found the part
To cut right through
The shades of dark

The game was played
And what you saw
Was me left
Exposed and raw

You took my fear
and used it well
I stood alone
isolated in hell

And when all was done
And in the end
I will never make
that mistake again

Distortion and truth

When haze filled memories are locked in time

caught in between the images

of dreams that both were and weren’t,

through ghostly wisps of shadows

and fleeting moments

in graveyards of decaying spirits

where the stench of dewy skin

sticks deep in the mind

and backwards reflections

are more clear in the twisted

shapes of mist.

When the depths of drowning souls

are washed forcefully in to the deep

left to sleep externally amongst

with only the sands and the reeds

to hold their embrace

In those moments of false tenderness

and only then

do I understand the truth

The Door

I closed the door once before

and moved from the draft

and shut up safe and warm I stayed

until the storm had passed

 

But quiet tapping caught my ear

and louder still it grew

the pounding built and when I looked

standing there was you

 

Foolishly I let you in

to give you refuge from the wind

the better choice-the entry closed

and the threshold light left dimmed