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In the past, I’ve written quite a few poems and other small, literary pieces. I figured this page could be a place for me to share them, or use as light reading material:
One by one they left.
Gathering their belongings, they escaped.
Soon, they would become a distant memory.
One lodged deep within the depths of my mind.
I didn’t know what would become of them, me.
All I knew were the steps that needed to be taken.
For if they did not, I did not know if my life would progress.
I would physically exist, but would I be living?
To exist and to live. They are not the same.
We all in this world, exist. Many of us live as well.
Though, for those of us who cease to live, we must ask ourselves a question:
What do we WANT?
It is easier to resort to what we know. It takes much effort to fight the battle.
It takes much strength and effort to counter defeating thoughts.
Do we long to lead effortless lives?
A life of predictability is not a life after all, for life is not predictable
All I was to You:
Was I just another notch on your belt?
Was I just another addiction to kick?
That repetitive, compulsive drive, leading you to destruction?
Did it hurt when I said goodbye?
Did you moan and weep, experiencing withdrawal from my once pleasant touch?
How did you move on without a glance back?
Was I not enough for you to fight back?
You let me go without a second look
Never once trying to reason with my resistance
You kept going, moving forward towards something else, someone else
Someone else to replace the addiction I became
I was never more than a vice
Resembling that of a drug, a foreign substance for you to abuse, burning a hole in your mind
I wonder if you realized you burned me, too
All thats left are your ashes; flecks of who you were, reminders of what we did
It repeats in my head, in my heart
All I was to you was another drug.
A Melodic Memory:
I could probably write you song
If I did, the words would fall into place
Round and round, I would spin
My body gravitating to the melody I would write
Flickers of gold would glisten in my eye
As I sang my sweet song
My heart would inevitably race as you came into sight
Visible only in memory
Present in my past
I would write you a song.
A Silent Goodbye:
There are so many words I never spoke.
I turned my head, took in a deep breath, and suppressed all of it.
Sometimes, in my mind, I think about those moments and how very simple it would have been to allow the words to flow freely from my lips.
Yet, instead, as I typically do, they lay buried inside, locked away into the depth of my being.
It pains me to think how differently it might have been if those words had been spoken.
Or how maybe it wouldn’t have hurt so much when you left.
Maybe now, I wouldn’t wish you pain and torment or long for the sweet taste of your lips to fade and cease to linger upon me.
I wonder if you’ve ever hurt or loved, or if the sinful liquid washes it away and builds a facade you shield your heart behind, numbing you.
Infect me with your sin no more, corrupt me you won’t, as I disconnect and slowly fade.
It’s the silence that hurts the most and plunges deep within me.
It’s the words I never spoke that still linger upon my lips, dangling from my grasp.
Words, that if I were to have said, might not have really mattered at all.
Or, if they did, would I truly want them to?
I accept an answer might never come.
Perhaps I’ll look back on this time and wonder or reason.
Maybe I’ll replay those moments in my mind, how few there were.
Or maybe they will slowly disappear and be silenced; a painful, mournful silence.
Just like that and it was gone. There was no formal goodbye, no lingering ending, it simply stopped. When it ended, I was relieved. It was freeing to be away from it all, to never again have to walk into that building, that office. To never again have to drive that same, monotonous drive, unaware to as to whether or not the morning traffic would reluctantly greet me. Finally, I was free. What would I do, though? That was the beauty of it. I was free to do all I could imagine. That day, the sun shone brighter than it had in months, the air felt fresh and renewing, and sky was an azure hue I never imagined would be visible to the human eye. All of it was rejuvenating in a sense. Of course, the future ahead of me was unknown. I hadn’t a clue as to how the bills in my name would be paid, or how I would manage to lead the adult life I tried to forge those few months ago. Life had changed and was nothing short of different. I expected it to be different, but never did I believe I would experience change. Learning, was what those few months had brought me; much learning and realization, realizing what I couldn’t manage, but more importantly, what I didn’t WANT to manage.
I wanted out. I wanted to be free to roam the world and to explore, to not feel restricted, trapped or stifled. To not feel as though I am being lectured or monitored, or dangled from a leash, repressing all I am. Never did I want to stare out at the window of my office and yearn to be released, similar to as I did when hospitalized in the e.d. unit, watching the world pass by, the students toting their backpacks, smiling a fragmented smile, as I lay there, confined to a bed, with a sullen, grim expression on my face. Release me, is all I thought to myself in that hospital, and, strangely enough, in that office. I was trapped. It never got better though, no matter how much I tried to convince myself. Each day, I arrived at the office, hoping that day would be the one where I would be happy, pleased with my “work,” believing I had made an ounce of difference. It never happened and I was left fraught with fear and anxiety, knowing another day of monotony would soon be upon me.
That day I felt alive, finally pulled back to life after a temporary lapse into a slow and painful incapacitation, one that left me momentarily paralyzed. Sometimes, I could barely speak, as the words separated from my mind. All I could think was how desperately I yearned to leave, staring at the clock, counting the minutes, neglecting to recognize it was my life I was wishing away. My life was paused in the office. The air was stagnant, as stagnant and delapidated as the people filling it were. Finally, I would be away from it, and I could lock it all away in my memory, someday relieving myself of the feelings I would associate with that office.
Breathing in that pleasant, laundered, fresh air, I smiled, and licked my lips; how sweet it finally was.
The Habitual Escape:
Here I lay
My eyes stained red from the tears left to flood from the words you spoke
Words that blistered my skin
As your hands grazed mine
I can still feel your touch
Saturating my memories with thoughts of yesterday
Aware it would soon be over, leaving me to wonder
Longing for one last touch, glance, thought
Leave me you will
Pieces of me strewn on the floor, a montage of my presence
None of it mattered
I turned to watch you leave
Abandoning me as the cold pierced my skin
The days wear on and I lay soaked with fear
Trembling as I recall your touch
Silenced in my thoughts, you leave me breathless
I fight for the chance to relive, falling short
All of it escapes me
You escape me.