A single spark
From your eyes was enough to
Ignite and set me alight
I threw off the shackles
That tied my wrists and bound my feet
To lose myself in reckless abandonment
And so it is and ever will be
That when I think of being free
It is those times when you had
Captured me
The words that had taken flight
And left a desolate plain behind –
My comfort on a stormy day
And my shelter from the rain
Returned to my mind
Returned to me
So I can craft
And form
And shape
And voice out loud
My soul that pleads
To speak
What is it about closure that is so satisfying
Is it the pain that stabbed when I
Read the one line I never wanted to read
The painful words I never wanted to hear
The brutal rejection that cut through me
The psychotic behavior that forced a result
That pushed your boundaries and
Pushed until finally you could take no more
Until finally you could take a stand
Until finally all the superficial niceties
The false fake sweet kind words
Evaporated
Fell away
And all that remained was a defiant
Rejection of all things that are me
What is it that is so satisfying
That shuts me down
That stills my conflict
And allows me to rest?
I wish I knew
I wish it wasn’t so
But now it’s over
I am full with a perverse satisfaction
That bears no apologetic shame
And finally I can
Heal.
The sweetest
Cruel addiction broke me apart
Leaving me with the lingering taste
Of a forbidden kiss
Craving more I turned on you
Turned on everything we had before
And now I’m broken
Torn in two
There’s nothing left for me to do
But tie my hands
And seal my mouth
Slice my fingers
And still my tongue
I ache
I crave
I desire
I lust
And at the end
There’s nothing left
There’s nothing left
But grainy sand
A shattered rock
And strands of
Dust
and so the wheel turned again
leaving one scene behind and
introducing another, the old
and the new, the past and the
present and the future, all
merging into one, evolving
and forming and changing,
never standing still, wisdom
of the ancients stand firm:
things change and things
falls apart and things come
together sometimes to
create
something new
I craved closure.
Finally, it’s closed.
The tip of my brush dips into the
Pot of thick black sticky paint
To smear across my face and
Skin and flesh, blocking out
Everything that causes my
Paining heart to cry
Unceasingly.
Is death a
Better
Option?
I paint some more.
Well, this was a timely one word choice, because look what happened this very morning. I was on my way out, bright and early, and lo and behold, I was not going anywhere. Dang!
I turned to my thirteen year old. Can you change a tyre. He shrugged his shoulders, no?
Well, life lesson my boy! He can now change a tyre 😀
The first car I owned was a metallic green basic no frills car, but it was my first car and I was fond of it and it was mine. Until it was stolen. A few weeks later it was recovered and I was summonsed to identify it.
I was unprepared for the shock. It was not my car. Until I looked closer. There were a few marks I recognized. It had been my car. And now it was completely stripped and unrecognizable.
I felt something similar whenever I see images of Otto Warmbier from the last time he was seen in 2016. He was strong and healthy looking, a fine young man, physically full of strength and vitality. I wondered how he would appear when he resurfaced after serving his fifteen year sentence of hard labour. For attempting to steal a banner.
I cannot imagine how his parents must feel today. The pain and shock and anguish. The torment of seeing their comatose son a year and a half of being in the hands of the brutal regime that is North Korea.
They have their son back. But they might never have him back.
And their agony might endure forever.
One of the nicest things a man can do for a woman is to help her feel secure. To make her feel that he is there for her. I speak for myself on this, but I have learnt that when I am feeling insecure it prompts a whole rash of odd, eccentric, psycho behavior. Attention-seeking behavior. Random texts that make no sense. Random words that make even less. Mood swings and aggression. Clinginess and tears. Poetry and prose and writing and a never-ending well of words.
When I am feeling secure I am a whole different person. Confident and out-going. Centered and in control. In my own power.
My success-relationships in the past had this in common. I felt secure. I felt wanted. I felt desired. I felt attractive. And I felt the other person was ‘into me’. That they were going to put in effort to pursue. That all I had to do was allow them to do just that. And none of them involved ‘flirting’. There was attraction, but it was on a deeper level than the superficial game of flirting. It involved speaking to me. Getting to know me. And addressing me by name. Like I’m a real person and not a random female sex object. Thats always a start!
Poems and Petals 