Hear my resolve
to follow through
with my dreams,
the ones you once shared
but gave away
when love was lost.
I am not done.
I am not alone.
Fiction and poetry writing, recapturing the muse.
Hear my resolve
to follow through
with my dreams,
the ones you once shared
but gave away
when love was lost.
I am not done.
I am not alone.
Rule for others
and shape your desires
for them,
denying any emotions
that may interfere,
because you all still remember,
too clearly,
the one before
who let it all fall apart
with heartbreak.
Question my appearance
connected to memories
I still can’t reach.
Are they best left alone
while I stare at a stranger,
creating a new person
but still wondering
where they came from.
Leave the room
you trapped yourself in
to get stronger
and breathe freedom,
hoping you can now face
what’s to come.
Add three cages
to fit into
a filled space,
stuffing more in
and resenting the pressure,
too overwhelmed
to appreciate their usefulness
for the future.
Rearrange to the bottom
at my calling
and wait to see
if I return,
perhaps I’ll forget,
or maybe it was
never the plan
to begin with,
but I still asked it
of you.
Grip onto the making
and feel included,
even if you’re
really a hindrance.
It’s all perception
in the end.
Use my own skin
to rub away your layers,
peeling them to reveal
a trusting person,
a beautiful being,
while my own self
is exposed,
just as raw
and open for you
to understand.
Wake to empty
and panic it is lost
forever.
Scrambling to confirm
and too relieved
to be angry
when it returns,
but cling on
all the harder.
Nauseaus or exhausted,
too hard to tell
and too foolish
to stop hoping,
but dreading
a repeat tragedy
for either result.