And the worst part is, at one point, they were the best communicators in the world. they were there for you, they listen to all of your stories, you listened to the things that caused them pain, you offered them comfort, and a haven from the rain, and then one day...poof. Okay, maybe it doesn't happen that suddenly, but little things become to happen more frequently, and then eventually...poof.
Ha! so you have probably guessed that this post is a bit of a serious one. When something weighs on your mind enough, it has to find a way out, or your brain will explode, and no one wants to clean up that mess. Trust me, Brain matter would not be an easy clean.
This is my outlet, my way of escape. I've realized how important finding resolution, and getting closure from a situation can be. Getting closure is a the worlds way of giving you permission to move on to the next chapter of your life. The only thing is, when it comes to chapters in your life that involve other people; closure involves a conversation, or at least you talking, and the other person listening. In my case, neither has been able to happen; despite my best effort, I am an open wound in search of band-aid the size of Texas.
So what do I do? I write of course. The 2 poems I have tonight, are about the very situation of which I have spoke. The first was written tonight, and the other was written in the summer time...Enjoy
Happy labor day, and as always
Stay classy my non sleep deprived friends
(I apologize for the cuss word in the second poem, but I feel like changing would take away from the feeling I was trying to convey and the emotion that was being felt at the time. It's not meant to offend anyone)
Invisible
Why
does loving someone bring so much pain?
Why
does joy of companionship come packaged with inevitable strain?
What
in our hearts or minds craves the validation from another?
A
person outside our immediate circle, someone different from our mother?
Without
knowing it we accept the consequences when we receive the reward
No
days of happiness, laughter, and late night talks by the fire
Can
make up for the tears shed, sleepless nights, and time wasted thinking
What
went wrong, why it went awry?
What
made the other person simply pass you by?
It’s
an unwritten law in the invisible code of friends
Shotgun
for life, free counseling sessions, no food is off limits,
2 am
is always an acceptable time to talk, adventures are best done with 2 people,
always take each others side in a breakup
Sometimes
you just need to let them see you cry,
when
someone says they need to talk.. you listen.
When
does the code cease to be? A text
impossible to answer
When
do things become more important than people?
When
did I become invisible? Does it make it easier not to feel guilty if I don’t
exist?
You
were a priority, the code I never broke. What did I do?
Why
have we never spoke? I’m sorry I’m not important, I didn’t make it on your
priority list, between school, work, and old friends, the cut I must have
missed.
Now
I’m left here hurting, not willing to give up,
7
years spent in the land of Friendom, I’m not ready to leave.
But
it’s hard to live in a place where no one knows you exist.
So
I’ll pack up my boxes, leaving only dust behind
But
know that I didn’t leave willingly,
You
evicted me.
The Lonely Fighter
Without a care, without a call, the
train's moved on, no warning at all.
but still the wait continues on,
the Hope of change endures the long and
winding road of loneliness.
Fault is placed on the one left at the
door and the thoughts begin. What could have been done, should there have
been more.
More patience more time, more tough
love talks?
Would anything have changed would
anyone have given a fuck?
An ounce of care, a strain of grief,
the selfishness goes beyond belief.
A cry reaches into the night, a plea
for someone to care,
a begging for someone to hold to the
promise of saying they'll be there.
The towel hangs in the grip the mallet close
to the bell. The end feels near, the heart starts to swell, with longing and
regret for the one who doesn't understand, the simplest things they could have
done to lift a drooping hand. The feelings bitter, the thoughts turn sour, the
clock strikes on the hour. The towel hits the canvas inside of the ring, the
mallet is lifted back and takes it's final swing. The fight is over, the fight
is done,
yet, only one fighter knows that it has
even began.
ash wipe, keep your head up. You're one of the strongest women I know. And come to my house. I'm always bored.
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