Guilt

It eats away at you,
the guilt.

When you're so used to doing nothing wrong,
you misplace your defence mechanisms.
The ones that make you strong.
When you're so used to doing only right,
you misplace the fight.

It eats away at you,
the feeling,
the one that reminds you where you should be.
What you should be doing.

It feels like I've misplaced it all.
But really its just the guilt,
making me feel like I've lost my mind.

And finders, keepers.

Family Values.

I just saw something no one should ever have to see.
Broken hearts and bleeding faces.

Piecing together a story I should have been there for myself to see.
And away I escape,
while they're left picking up the pieces.

But there are parts they'll never find.
A broken heart that may very well have been mine.
A broken heart that has been breaking for time,
but I was too busy seeing all the things you didn't do right.

And all the things you didn't do right,
came spewing from your mouth like a hose out a sewer,
that couldn't be turned right.

And all the rights you could have taken,
but you chose to go left.

And I saw the care in the eyes of the man that loved you,
but couldn't anymore.
Couldn't because you didn't love yourself,
you loved him more.

And the questions you slurred out your downturned lips,
the scar on your eyebrow that will signify forever
the night you told the truth.

The night we sat sobbing around you
while you not so calmy said you wanted to die.
And when locking yourself in the bathroom
I actually feared your demise
I realised you truly are sick.

I'm weak
you sobbed.
I can't think of a better word that fits.

All my worst fears are personified in you.
You are the be all and end all of all the things
I never want to be.

And that makes me so sad.

My heart split in two
half went out to him,
half to you.

Then shattered onto the floor,
along with the other three.
For you all to sweep up,
while I drive away,
home.

Not Much Else.

I write about what makes me tick,
What makes me beat or blink faster.

I write about what gets under my skin,
What I let willingly or unwillingly in.

I write about what gets me excited,
What builds or breaks me...
ignited.

So when I all I can write about is you,
Its really no wonder.

The Right One

And I feel like breaking our silence just to let you know - someone is finally appreciating me, in all the ways you never did.

so be

And sometimes you need someone to say its okay,
before you start to believe it is.

Someone to pat you on the back,
give you the thumbs up,
for you to believe in yourself.

I still don't feel it.
I know you tell me I'm good,
but I still don't believe it.

I'm just pouring the words out,
straight from my mind and onto the page.

All the ones i tried, but failed to suffocate.
And I tried, but failed, to replicate
All the ways you made yourself at home on your page.

And I tried, but failed,
to stop myself from feeling the envy.

I wonder if people feel for me how I feel about them.

So caught in my mind its all I can talk about,
how I feel.

I think more than I think i think.
I thought about what I felt and it didn't make sense.

I think more than you think I think.
I felt about and stumbled on to you,
and it made perfect sense.

I'm just babbling,
I've felt such an urge to write.
Such an urge to speak out loud
but this is the only way I might.

And when I take flight it seems no one will be there to catch me,
bar myself,
thats the way it should be.

How many times did you tell yourself not to love me?
I wonder if it was enough to stop the envy.

I wonder if people think the way I think.
If only you could hop, skip and jump,
if only for a moment
into other minds.

I wonder if you'd find them as tiring as you found your own..
If you'd swap their problems back for yours,
after all,
they are your home.

After all,
there's nowhere else to go.
Make your bed, and lie in it.
You'll always be alone
in your own mind.

Please give me some prompts on what to write about, I want to try something different.

While I'm here I just want to say thank you to all of you for continuing to read and support and for your words of encouragement. Can't tell you how much it means to me :) - Thank you.

xo

How thing's change.

I remember once,
not too long ago -
I gazed awe struck at the way in which people would caress each other,
confused.

I didn't understand how the space between two people,
miraculously became no space at all...
How the individuals wanted it to be that way.

I understand perfectly now.
What doesn't make sense,
is being any other way.

I can't stop touching you,
Can't get enough of your hands on me.

I can't stop kissing you.
It makes less sense that there could be a you
without me.

And the space between us stretches and retracts,
Its no space at all.

And I can't believe once upon a time -
not too long ago,
I wouldn't have been able to fathom this at all.

Fall into You.

There's something special about you,
Like you studied all the things a girl could ever want
and kept them stored up, saved for me.
Like you are all the things I could ever have wanted you to be.

There's something special about the way you make me feel,
Like I'm invincible, untouchable,
as special as you.
Like I'm deserving, justified, for feeling the way I do.

There's something special about us,
Like we're unbreakable, unmalleable,
it feels so real.
So supportive,
everything I believe this hand is supposed to deal.

'Ti voglio bene' - I want good things for you,
it doesn't matter if I'm included or not.
I've never felt so unobsessioned, unburdened,
it doesn't matter that I care. A lot.

There's something so special about it,
about the smile you gave me - the one I wear every day,
the one thats not easy to take away
because it was here before you.
You just give me a reason to smile wider
beat faster
laugh louder.

If you weren't real, I'd have made you up.
I used to dream you.
But I don't need dreams anymore,
when this is what is true.

WW3

How do you stop the words from spilling out?
Sew your lips shut.

Lucky you,
you're witnessing World War Three.

But it doesn't bode well,
when both sides are me.

Escape.

Actions reverberate for so much longer than you would think possible.
Sure each chapter is separate from the one before, the one after it.
Change is the only constant.
But the chapters make up a story,
and my beginning is undoubtedly affecting my end.

How long does the past reflect back for?
I'm tired of having to blame my actions on mistakes I or someone else made in the autumn of my life.

And just how the tree that was cut down in anger in winter,
lacking leaves and therefore believed useless,
is missed in summer...

I'm missing.

Regurgitate.

I have things to write
But I don't know what to say.
Straight from my mind and onto this page.

I have things in my heart that I'm trying to suffocate.
I'm slipping back into my old ways.

Everything is temporary.

Reassure yourself.

Everything is temporary.

Melting.

I may not remember every individual diamond encrusted, glittering sweet of a word you whisper to me
late at night,
But I can feel the shimmery haze of them
all lined up,
pressed together.

Each one squirming to be heard over the promises of the others.
How could the cold ever get a word in edge wise?
There's nowhere for it to go.

Your words drape over me,
I can feel them.
Your warmth is melting me,
turning me over on your tongue.

Don't spit me back out.

Insatiable.

There are words I can't push out,
although I can taste them on my tongue.

I miss you
I want you

Don't leave me alone.

The words are foul tasting and leave a bitter streak as I swallow them back down.

Insatiable.

Excess.

Theres something new pumping through my veins. Something so far from the vains of old.
Vanity brought me nowhere, but to the mirror time and time again.

''You are so beautiful.''
It was what every little girl had fought tooth and nail and claw to hear.
Sobbing into the pillow, 'tell me again, tell me again.''

But anything in excess is bad. And she found herself in front of the mirror time and time again.
Head unbowing, eyes unblinking
''You are so beautiful.''

She had so much more
but reflected in the mirror and all that she had been told,

she had nothing else.

Wake Up.

Like a star she had wished on, she kept her eyes on it, leaning every so slightly forward, reaching ever so slightly upward, never letting it out of her sight.

''Dreams are for beggars.''

''So what do I do?''

''Wake up and make it true.''

Fear or Truth?

And he begs you to share, to open up... ''I want to know everything about you'' he breathes into you late at night, when you are too tired and too comfortable in his arms to keep up your defences anyway.

''I want to know everything.'' And so day by day the bricks disintegrate, crumbling into pieces and falling from the sky in a way that makes you have to bend, and weave, and dodge them. In a way you never thought possible.

So you start to show the 'real' you. The one you thought you had murdered (Were a thousand stabbings not enough? A thousand scars, thousand pills, thousand fatal [they MUST have been fatal] gunshots?) But she has somehow been resurrected, like a crazy version of the past you almost forgot existed.

And you start to show your anxieties, the ones you pretended to him (and to yourself) did not exist.

And he starts to back away
slowly.
One foot behind the other,
slowly.
As if to avoid awakening a sleeping beast.

But is this the fear or the truth talking?
You have no proof.
Only that that is how you feel about your own emotions

The ones you deem
So
Damn
Pathetic.

Language of Lovers.

I'm falling deeper in love with words every day... They have this ability to build or break, caress or cloy... devour or destroy. They can show you what a thousand broken smiles, a million tears cannot. They are so easy to use, empty promises so easy to deliver. But they fill the holes in my pores, explain what my heart beat and dry mouth cannot. They have the ability to mend, those words that fit into the folds of your skin, like a lullaby a mother who actually cares would sing her child to sleep. Some words have the ability to change your life, to change the language you use to see the world through.

You fix me daily.

Wanted.

You make me smile sneakily to myself, like I have a secret no one knows but me. You make me feel special in a way I haven't in so long. Safe, Wanted. And your arms around me are my favourite haven right now. And your lips my favourite black hole, which I tumble so lightning fast through.

And you make me not want to roll my eyes at the couples clinging desperately to each other in the streets. And you've found my heart from the depths of the icicles I buried it in. And maybe you're making me believe in thing's I told myself did not exist.

But every other thought is you. And I feel out of control in a way I haven't in so long. I've almost gotten out from under my wall, but I don't know how long I'll last without it. Every second hour I tell myself to run. And when you are not in front of me, reminding me of why and how, I tense my haunches almost ready to sprint for my life.

Because that's what it feels like. It feels like my life at stake.

Wipe Me Clean.

''Learn from your mistakes''
The voice wanes but never fades,

She had been told this
every
day
since she could remember.

But perhaps mistakes dont remain mistakes forever
Perhaps the circumstances surrounding them make all the difference.

But these words that have become habit
are getting in your way.
What use are these mantra's
that only function to slow you down
and make you doubt yourself?

Let's start again
Wipe me clean
Let's start again.

Hello, Welcome In..

''Hello, welcome in. Please leave your baggage at the door.''
And the words furl and unfurl before her like a yard of thread she twists herself in,
and around,
in and around.
''Leave your baggage at the door.'
Echoing.

She tries,
She tries so hard.
She doesn't need anything in them after all...

But her hands curl and uncurl around them,
Unable to let go she just shakes her head in dismay
''Its all I've got'' she whispers
''These lessons that I've learnt... they are all I have left''

So she grips to the past as if they are the keys to her future.
As if she can't make her own path.
As if the same baggage can be used for every trip.
As if she can't start a new journey.

The Quest For Truth

The quest for truth can drive a sane man into the darkest recesses of his mind
And trap him there.
How can you find what has no definition?
My truth is not yours.
The same language may not apply.
And yet we keep talking, trying to make the vocabulary match up.
Perhaps if we substitute the words, the emotions will fit together like a puzzle.
I am the final piece,
But I cant find it.

And the truth traps you there,
Somewhere between itself, and the lies you create
In the language of your life.