Day 29 of NaPoWriMo! For the prompt ‘Gate23, that’s where I’ll be’, Crossroads in Circle 7.
(Tomorrow, for sure!) 🙂
Days after the apology
Mornings of the aftermath
The sky isn’t really blue yet
The pillows still suffer my wrath,
No, I’m not yet okay
And I don’t know why it’s so
Difficult to wash with a thousand ‘sorry’s
The blood off a bruised ego
Bared in the light of day
My vision blurs, at the oddest times
The world is gray, semi permanently
You riddled holes through which colors leached away
Even your smile doesn’t stand out to me
I don’t know, maybe I can’t see
Maybe I don’t want to see
Let’s count this one as a lesson learnt
Even love needs some time to fill fury’s cracks
Pride does not suffer greenstick fractures
Spines can bend till they break, and not always
No amount of alcohol can atone for
A drunken night’s sins
Even angry words are more potent when laced
You’re hung over, and I’m struggling to re paint my sunrises
And I can’t
-you need to hold the brush
Because these are colors
You have to give back to me
Thought starvation, for a period of time
Doesn’t do me any good
The pathology’s the same, like the stomach
The brain too needs its food
Denied a victim, the gastric acid
Into its own walls leaks
-similarly, a concentrated vitriol
An empty mind keeps
Atrophied ideas, dessicated hope
But what’s a hungry girl to do?
When muddied flirtations blend into one another
Faded bruises written black and blue
When nausea becomes a sentient sensation
When you’ve cauterized your heart with self wrought ablation
What’s a girl to do?
I thought too much, now I want to be thin
Your beauty’s enough for both of us, who
Cares about my within
I’ll be like you, just words and skin
Hollow cheeked and empty eyed,
But it’ll do
I learnt that being hungry for love is nothing compared to being hungry for respect. There are some things that just strip you of your dignity.
I don’t remember the last time I felt this small. I think I need to take a break from everything. I might be offline for a few days.
My love to all of you,
Why did He make me from clay?
What did He do to me?
What sort of vessel am I shaped into
To contain these fallacies?
Blinded, blinded, I don’t know my face
The mirror shows me a stranger
But ask me yours, where your smile lies and
I will know all the answers
Who are you, who gave you this
Power, over me, over my sense
Of reality, how did you change
My touch to thought, to impermanence
The sky is raw and the earth bleeding
How did you construct this bent
world, did God destroy me, or did you
-Did you both?
And what was my offence?
I loved you too much by any measure
I knew there was a gaping void
I promised myself, I’d fill the indifference
I’d push hard enough from my side-
and I did, see-
I’m already crazy
A drunk girl laughing at the edge of a cliff
Inching closer to the precipice, and
The howling promises of the wind- If
Only, if only, I could step away
If I could tell myself I mattered, you’ll miss
The scattered moments in your life
where I appear, where I exist
Inside my head, it’s a nice illusion
A sweet lie to say, if only
If only I could step away
Oh, that fall beckons too much, today
Some days, nothing makes sense. Nothing you do makes sense. The rain stops your sky and the walls won’t let you breathe and you want, you want someone to love, someone who will sit with you when you’re trying to make sense of what’s even fucking happening. In a corner of your mind you know you’re raving, but the other corners drown that tiny one out, and the day passes in a bewildered blur.
Maybe you want more. Maybe you want one sign, one small fucking sign that this altar you sit by isn’t where you’re going to starve and die, but grow, bloom, flourish. Maybe you resent everything in the world today because none of it is fucking yours and you have no one to call your own except you- and you don’t love yourself anyway, so fat lot of help that is. And the self pity and bitterness steadily simmers and gains momentum, and you find yourself staring off the side of the building, wondering if today’s the day.
But today is horrible. Today was horrible, which means it can’t be the day. Life cannot fall like this. Today can’t be the day, so let’s sit at the edge and breathe.
Let’s wait for tomorrow.
I Won’t Read You
They promised me happiness, all
the books I read growing up
There was always a happy ending
The fantasy isn’t the hunched, warty troll
It’s the concept that he could find
To live under the bridge with him
Lies, all lies
Don’t you see?
They’ll promise you happiness, all
the books you’ll read growing up
Escape, millionares in the sand, endless limbs
I give up
They all lie
They don’t write of life
Don’t you see?
Find me someone who will confess
To the moments of madness
to loneliness so acute that it sharpens
like a cocklebur digging
Like a parasite under your skin
Find me someone who can find love in
plain brown eyes
In the anger and the heartache and the confusion
Will he glorify my redemption?
I won’t read him till you promise me
He won’t lie
And if he writes of a love
That can hold me when I cry
I might read him
I could believe
I won’t promise, but