Dear ______,... Love, ______

Dear ______,
         Open your eyes man. Look at where we're headed. Don't you see the danger signs? The flashing lights of warning? Don't you hear the sirens wailing? My voice...? Quivering...? On the brink...? Of giving up? Of giving in? Of breaking down? It's sink or swim. ______, don't you see? The bargains they're making are starting to sound better with each passing moment and I'm afraid I can't pass them up; they're a steal. You keep shattering the panes of the window frames you put in place. What's the point? What's your deal? Is there any way I can escape with an easy hand? Have ______, this card shark of a dealer, dole out a win? Maybe I could swim safely away from this infested water instead of getting pulled under, instead of getting further frozen in this emotionless winter, but no, I'm afraid not; it's a sink and a swim relationship, a push and pull, a to and fro, a fall and fly: a controlled chaos. And that's sad to know because eventually something has to give way, even now the balance, the insane yin and yang feeling, the governed anarchy, is tipping, and I wonder if you think that it's the good that's actually dominating.

Love, ______

**Sigh**

People keep pushing me towards ending something I know can be too good to give up. Sometimes I'm happy and aren't those small precious moments enough? It's too hard and it's gone on for so long that to bring it all crashing down around me would be pointless and painful. They say from the outside that I'm in pain now and that walking away from this is so much better and that the pain would subside eventually, but I don't see it. I see bumps on the road, ones conquered and ones that remain and I believe if I stay just a little while longer maybe, just maybe, it'll all smooth over and stay long forgotten in the rear view.

Breaking Inhibition

My fingers hit the keys heavily, furiously,
Due to anxiety to release what’s inside,
To set free to a blank white sky what I’ve tried so hard to hide:
the lonely, dark heavy emotion that’s afraid to publicly show its head.
It waits for the paper and it waits for the pen
So it can fling itself onto the white abyss where it can find its end.

But the pain and fear always return
So I’ll find myself writing again.

I come and I go because it’s always there; writing is my friend.

When I’m writing
I’m releasing emotion:
Bringing calm to the ocean
With it’s current that’s constantly pushing and pulling
On my mind throughout the years
Its constant tide is always there, ebbing in my ears.

When I put pen to paper
My heart flows freely to the lead
So I can finally rest my aching head
From all the pent-up stress
Hidden from the eyes of others
The stuff that’s been building up, that’s been suffocating beneath the covers
Of the façade I put in place for all to see
For fear of what they’ll think of the real me,
The real me who’s alive in the writer me
The me who’s afraid, who’s alone, and who only trusts the barriers she herself has built.

So any one person could understand how sharing my work is terrifying:
I’m fearful someone will take my work, read it, and then frown,
And then, onto me, they shall look down.

Giving someone my work is like letting them take what I hold closest,
It’s saying “Here’s my heart, the one that I’ve always kept so heavily guarded, the one where writer Katelynn resides;
The pl, essentially, the real me hides.”
It’s saying “Take my heart. Go ace whereon and take it. Take it. Take it please”
Letting my heart go should feel like letting all my inhibitions free to float away on the breeze.

Which should feel like letting the real me break through the exterior Katelynn;

It should feel like an exhilarating free-fall where life is only saved by the joyous wings of flight.
Releasing the papers of my work unto another’s eager eyes
Should be as easy as exhaling into the wind
As soon as I’m able to loosen my grip: Once I let go and I just give in.

Hidden

I once asked myself why:
Why am I afraid of another’s touch
Why can’t I drop the facade I always maintain?
Why do I depend on it like a crutch?

I laid in bed one night and dreamt:
I’m in a garden, underneath a full autumn moon
There’s an elaborate masquerade ball
The air is thick with tension like humidity in June

The women wear evening gowns
They’re 18th century, Victorian Style
The men and women dance about the garden
They’re movement are so natural, like boats floating along the Nile

Each mask is unique and gaudy
They sparkle hauntingly in the moonlight
They hide the wearer but brag to the viewer
They sneer in the shadows of the night

They dance a waltz to eerily cheery music
Its daunting notes are muddied in the air as they drift
And the music becomes more and more like a vicious symphony
The tone picks up and then everything sounds desperate

Everyone’s clothes become ratty and ragged
They transform as they dance and then the music stops
Then the people come to a standstill
Simultaneously, all their masks drop

My garish mask and gown remain
I stand alone within the crowd
Their gazes shift from one another to me
Then they all stare me down

The dream ended suddenly as they began to close in
When I woke, I panted and tried to make myself steady
I gathered my breath and tried to be calm
Coming to grips that the dream was just a dream
Then I realized it mirrored my reality
I thought that maybe it was just fear of rejection
Revealing what’s underneath the mask and the layers of fabric
Only to find, there is nobody with acceptation

I’ll never be what you see
That woman is not a woman at all
She isn’t me, for I am hidden
Hidden beneath a battered armor

I wear an armor but I am not a knight, no, not in the slightest
I’ve not been deemed worthy by my king
I’m just a lonely self employed mercenary, I defend only myself
I push all on the outside away from the treasure within

I keep to my own
They say that I’m crazy, they say that I’m insane
I shut out all the sunlight brought to my door
I keep to my routine

I’ll never leave myself defenseless
I defend against any an all possible weapons
I myself am discluded though
For I alone am allowed to tear myself down

By taking on the beliefs of others of the past
I know that I am letting down everyone
I’m letting down all who see and believe the strong armor
And all who see a woman that not one eye could shun

But inside is a woman who cowers as a child does
Who cowers because she is just a prepubescent girl
She is the child who heard every taunt
And now she lives in a constant turmoil

Lonely and hurt
The girl has retreated and remains hidden beneath the exterior
She fears the day that the sunlight will break through
Showing that she is extremely inferior

The sunlight might burn her
Her fear is immense, she draws further back each day
She shrinks herself down to a speck
Me removing my mask means, her, I have betrayed

She hides between two worlds
One of defense, the other, fear
She can’t find a way back out
She has lost herself in there

She is me and I am her
But we are not one
We’re separated by the space between the worlds
But we were both scarred by the internalization

She’s trusted in the mask
I’ve worn it for all these years because of what it does
It protects us from the outside world
I’ve worn it since I learned what judgment was

We are marred by our past
We live in fear of our present
I’m forever protecting what’s behind the mask
And I swallow the pill of each day down like a psychological depressant

An Artistic Tribute to Nella Larsen

I'll never be what you see
I am a transient, a floater
Beneath the sun and the moon
Can you tell that I am but a mask?

Living duel lives but you'll never tell
for I glide unnoticed in the hustle and bustle of the world
You recognize me as a member of your society, an equal,
But beneath my skin, rich culture flows through my veins.

I shine in the light of a life of possibilities
that were not opportunities presented before.
As I pass from the world of the shadows to the world of the free
I am no longer weighed down by the weight of the chains.
Oh, but I am, I am reminded every dawn;
I am reminded that with this choice
there is an active part of me that I must sun;
How can I neglect to see myself?

The eternal internal war rages.
Why must I be forced to choose between
equal parts of myself, between "separate but equal" stages,
both within the same auditorium of my mind?

Who am I but a face among the crowd?
A face labeled by one of two contrasting colors.
How do I explain that I am both in this judgmental town?
Yes. I am both. But neither one dominates the other.
I am not but one dull color.
I am a myriad of brilliance:
A rainbow to be recognized after the rain and the storm;
I am God's apology and promise of the good to come.

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This piece shows creativity in that I write from the perspective of a mixed race woman much like the main character in Passing by Nella Larsen. I find it engaging in that it forces the reader to think about African American history like I intended because I wrote this for a project for my class but I liked it so much I felt I should share it.. This shows growth in that I hadn't written a poem before where I write from the perspective of someone who is another race than my own... I hope nobody takes offense in that.

Once Upon A Time

Once upon a time,

I used to dream in Storybook rhymes.

That told of a Prince that would come sweep me off my feet

He’d stand under my window and throw rocks for me.

But that’s just it, it was a childhood dream

Those thoughts and feelings are long gone

And just like chess, I became a pawn

In the game of loveless love my parents had played.

I was on the front lines and I suffered the pain.

The front lines: where their weapons were words;

Their words were filled with venom the players felt their opponent deserved

And I sat as a child and merely observed.

And through my sufferings I learned to deal,

By making a way that I would never need to heal.

Once upon a time,

I closed off this heart of mine,

When I learned that there’s no such thing as storybook love,

No such thing as the fairy tales I would dream of.

I kept it secure and in doing so I became distant and lost

But I did it so I would endure, I made a promise to myself, and on my heart I traced a cross.

But Once Upon a Time

I was a little girl

And I lived inside a Beautiful, Stained Glass World.

Once Upon a Time

My Parents were in love

They Lived A Happily Ever After

And said “I Do” under the church rafters

I believed in love at first sight,

Along with unicorns, and fairies and evil dragons in flight.

I remembered to always look for the silver line,

But that was only once upon a time…

Once upon a time, my parents faced a steep Incline with a cliff on their side,

They were ready to jump and forget about me, myself, and I.

If they had the love that I had learned of,

Why were they so ready to give up?

There was supposed to be a light at the end of the tunnel

But the dark just kept dragging on.

What was I supposed to do when they wouldn’t live as one?

And they would tell me that they were still in love?

I would learn to live with how my life became what it is today,

I thought the war had come to an end but I realized it still rages within,

Because even though it’s a few years later

I now see I’ve hit the iceberg, and like the Titanic I’ve sank into a frozen danger.

The waters froze my heart over leaving no room for the warmth and love of another.

This leaves me to wish I could return to my once upon a time,

Where everything around me was part of a soft lie

Leading me to believe that everyone’s life story started with the words “Once upon a time…”

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This piece shows creativity in that I relate the feelings a child experiences during a rough and choppy divorce between their parents which creates a custody battle over the child to common knowledge, games, and history which makes it less hard for the audience to sympathize with. I find it engaging in that it rhymes almost as if it is a twisted "storybook rhyme" and that, for this generation especially, it can be very easily related to the reader's life events if their parent had a divorce. This shows growth in that I hadn't written a poem before where I actually said what life event I was writing of; it's not hidden under a veil of ambiguity that is known as an allegory.

Unnamed

I have insecurities, I can’t help it.

They creep and burrow into my brain like rodents

Then they pop up like whack-a-moles

Only I don’t have a hammer to whack them away;

They just appear and then they remain there

A vicious tease and annoyance.

They forced me into a corner of self-doubt and low esteem.

In this corner, the darkness closed in around me:

It was attracted to the negative ions I had exuded

In my solution of suppressive depression

And the salt bridge formed by my overwhelming tears.

How’s that for the perceived lack of chemistry

Especially when it had come to others?

Eventually I found the surrounding darkness had become comforting

It had welcomed me when it seemed no one else would:

I could be left alone there and have no one question me.

I thought I enjoyed my solitude.

She’s hidden herself from all those around her

And nobody’s found her

Nobody’s even tried.

She remains in the dark because nobody’s saved her,

Nor will they ever;

She is the one they have chosen to forget:

To leave without regret.

She’s left in the dark;

She feels without purpose,

She feels worthless.

She is alone.

In the blackness,

She’s completely defenseless

To her thoughts and her emotions,

Her tears formed an ocean.

The ocean surrounded her;

The ocean drowned her;

Then finally she died

Because all who have claimed to love her had left her behind.

Only when I couldn’t take the stress anymore did I go off;

I was a ticking time bomb.

Stress was my biological trigger,

It flowed through my veins waiting for its signal

In its unforeseeable detonation

I blundered ahead into the mountain of books.

I thought I could handle all that had come with the aspirations I had allotted myself.

Then I noticed that I could see myself, alone and weak:

Unable to succeed at anything.

Her thoughts tore into her,

They all saw the “reality” so they concurred:

They saw a weakling girl with scraggly arms

who had no strength to climb up the mountain, she had no zeal.

Nobody saw her because she lacked an aesthetic appeal,

Her “lacks” automatically made you see that she

Could never be anything she wished she could amount to be.

She didn’t have confidence in herself so nobody else ever could

And she never believed that someday someone would.

When somebody finally recognized and loved her

She found the strength she needed to conquer

Everything except the darkness

That hounded her with her state of being worthless.

She tried her hardest to push her way out

But she could not overcome the seething doubt.

I took time away, I just needed to breathe

This only worsened the situation though.

Like a spark thrown into a room full of gas,

Everything blew back in my face and I had no idea what to do.

I cried every night and couldn’t answer simple questions.

I holed myself away in my room and did nothing but despair

In my eternal gloom. But then a light was shed

And it’s lead me to be who I am today

Even though the feeling still comes back to haunt me

I have a release which is what I needed to begin with,

Something to ride me through my fall and lessen the impact it had on my surroundings.

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This piece shows creativity in that I haven't written a poem before where I've jumped from one perspective to another, both being the speaker and the outsider looking in on the speaker is quite interesting. I find it engaging in that it is disorienting to read the back and forth of the two perspectives which is what I was aiming for. I wanted the reader to be put in a place where they felt confused and needed to go back and run back through what they read in order to better grasp my tone and the overall feelings behind the poem. This shows growth in that I'm using the two separate perspectives to aid the underlying meaning and tone of the piece.

Hylophobia

Rushing out the back door Cassidy could only think of now having to take the shortcut to school. The one that cut across the field behind her neighbors’ backyards as well as hers and to a narrow path through a small section of forest that led to the school. Her eyes scanned the tree line across the large field that seemed to be long-forgotten in the blinding gray light of the cloudy morning. Nothing seemed to be out of the ordinary but still her heart began beating faster with each crunch made by the frozen dew, and brilliantly colored fall leaves beneath her feet. Along with the slight murmur from the trees, her mother’s voice rang in her ears, warm but anxiety ridden, “As a girl there are certain things you should avoid… Never be alone, and never be out of the earshot of others.” The only thing she could picture when her mother’s voice played through her was the wooded area around the field: those densely packed branches abruptly stopping at the edge of the large expanse of grass that remained that beautiful emerald green all year long. She could only imagine being alone at the edge of the field only to be snatched up, and swallowed whole by those trees. So she had become accustomed to walking to school with her friend Jesse, but recently Jesse had contracted the flu from going out in the storm to sneak off to a party.
As Cassidy crossed the field the world felt void of life, only deepening her sense of fear, the dread was twisting and writhing further through her veins, the danger infecting every cell in her blood. As she approached the path, she grabbed the straps of her backpack as though they’d hold her to the ground, as though they’d prevent the forest from consuming her. Almost like it was protection from the darkness within the forest. As her foot stepped onto the path she heard a noise nearby. It sounded like the old floorboards in her hallway at home, that slow moaning creek of something moving which was once still. Almost like the forest had waited for her and began to awaken in order to shoot its eerie vines up through the ground and pull her away into the brush screaming bloody murder. So she began to run.
       She ran past what seemed like hundreds of maple trees which had faded into a dull autumn gold. She jumped and nearly screamed at every rustle she heard. She tripped and fell on every little black and grey rock that had been hidden beneath the carpet of leaves and moss. She didn’t stop for anything. She didn’t stop to rest. She didn’t stop to nurse her bloodied hands and scraped knees. She didn’t stop to notice the lush plant life or how peculiar it was for the leaves to remain on said plant life so late in the fall. She didn’t stop when she stumbled up and nearly fell on the incline at the slight curve in the tight path. She didn’t stop when the low hanging branches pulled at her hair. She didn’t stop when the overgrown bush clawed at her legs through her pants.
The forest seemed to be closing in around her. It grabbed at her calf muscles. It grazed her thighs. It tugged on and tore up her clothes. It gripped her arms with such vicious determination it ripped through her heavy jacket. The forest had come to life to engulf Cassidy just as she’d imagined: just as she had feared. It dragged her down to the cold, unforgiving ground. It hauled her into the brush. It spread fingerlike roots and vines over her body. They twisted around her. They began to cocoon her. They shot up from the ground and bound her to the forest floor. The moss slowly began growing on her skin. She gasped for breath. She gasped for that moist life giving air. It was thick with mold spores and that smell of earthworms and soil. She could taste it. Her palette became thicker with its taste with each dying breath. She screamed as the plants began to shoot up through her skin. She shrieked at the pain. She wailed as the merciless forest tried to bulldoze it’s vines into her ears, eyes, nose, and mouth, suffocating her. It tried to thrust itself back through her and into the earth starting with the easiest points of access.
  She desperately tried to cling to life all the while crying out for the help she knew would never come. She was praying to a god whom she’d never even worshipped for a rescue. She needed someone, anyone, to hear her anxious cries. She knew it was all hopeless though. Her calls were drowned out by the wall of trees that surrounded her. Her mind flashed images of her family, her friends, her short and sweet life. She wondered if they’d ever find her, and if anybody would even realize she was gone. She wondered what would they place in an empty grave as a memorial to the life she had lived. She pondered if anybody would question how she came to pass. All the while knowing nobody would ever know the truth of her horrific end.
Warm tears were escaping her eyes as she began sinking into the immense vegetation around her, the plant life that was no longer just plants but apart of her as well. She felt the bugs crawling on her skin and gnawing at what was left of her. They were feeding off what life she still had.
Along with the slowing heartbeat within her, Cassidy heard the earth moving, and the forest symphonizing at her capture. The trees reverberated loudly with the sound of triumph over her, as though they had awaited the day she would be alone. They vibrated in the harmony of her mutilation and destruction as though it had been plotted long ago. The groaning of the trees sounding joyous at their victory, reaping the reward of having succeeded. Her body was a trophy to the wildlife of the forest.
As she was succumbing to forest, her limbs became limp. Her drive to fight was gone. Her muscles ached. Her wounds burned with the dirt that was enveloping her. Her breath staggered then shallowed. Her heart began skipping beats. She closed her eyes and tried to cherish her last moments. The darkness entombed her. She became one with the forest, never to be found.
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This piece shows creativity in that I had never written anything like this before. I hadn't written something so dark, and creepy. The setting is the antagonist, rather than a person, which I feel will draw a reader into the piece because it plays off the relatable fears of being alone, and being forgotten. There is also the title, hylophobia, or fear of the forest. It is engaging in the fact that it is unique, it uses repetitive images (almost like a heartbeat) to really pound the disturbing images into the reader's eye, as well as it plays off of fears. This shows growth in that as I had stated before, I hadn't ever used the setting as the antagonist before in my writing.

Reflection

Why, once again I question myself, do I hide behind this mirror? Why do I not break through it? Perhaps I am not strong enough. I may not be strong enough, especially when I need to be: especially when I need the strength to rise to my feet and set the entire world back in its rightful place. It is now, when I need to get up off the ground where I lay, the ground that I fell to, to fix this mutated world, this altered state of reality, that I cannot find the strength.  Why has all I’d ever hoped and loved left me with nothing to turn to for empowerment, for inspiration? The well of life I drank from runs dry as the spiderlike night finishes entombing the world in her web of black sky holding dewdrops of sparkling stars. The breaths I take become increasingly shallow, and I feel the cold of the night settle in my skin and bones, or maybe I should say my glass and my frame for I’ve become nothing more than what I’ve reduced myself to, a mirror: a shining reflection of everything a viewer would like to see, a lie, a falsified image cropped to fit into the frame of a pretty little body. All the viewer needs to say is the timeless words “Mirror, mirror on the wall…”

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This piece shows creativity in that I tried to compare the night sky to a spider’s web, I really liked the analogy and how it was unique in that I had never used it before in other pieces of writing. The piece I posted is only a fragment of a larger piece I’m attempting to write and yet I still find it to be engaging; it speaks I first person, which I feel will draw a reader into the piece because the narrator is not self-empowered and righteous but is in fact self-conscious, and speaks to the reader to find strength. It is also engaging in the fact that, I’m sure, people can relate to the narrator feeling like a mirror, only reflecting what people want to see. This shows growth in that I’m trying to expand upon my ability to write in prose versus writing poetry.

Star-Crossed - Final Draft: 3/4/12

As silent as we could mange, we snuck out past the night guards who had always patrolled the castle walls. It is strange to think that they hadn’t recognized the princess had gone missing. I had always wondered what it would have been like outside of the inside I had spent my life committing to memory. You were afraid, no, terrified my father, the king, would discover you stealing me away into the night. I wasn’t, I guess in some strange way I had wanted us to be caught by one of the harsh, husky guards; I guess I liked the danger and the potential that my father could realize I’m more than an innocent wallflower destined for nothing more than waving to her subjects and saving our land from an enemy land through a kingdom-merging betrothal. I liked that you exposed me to the feeling that I actually was more than what the king had planned for me. So in the same sense I wanted to keep you around and I wanted to be caught, but that would’ve had taken you away from me. Because though I know that our motives were innocent and pure, my father would have thought you were kidnapping me for untold ulterior purposes like that of illicit acts. I know the truth though; we began our adventure with the intentions of going stargazing.
We met one evening when you had come to deliver a message to me from my mother, the queen. You found me amongst a pile of books within my tutor’s study, surrounded by lush tapestries sewn with the land’s finest threads. The draping fabrics depicted my family’s rich history, of which, I had grown largely unimpressed having been preached of it every day my tutor gave a history lesson; as if we’re of the only importance in all of Scotland’s history. Nevertheless, when you found me I was reading of the stars and attempting to view them through one of the clearer stained glass windows, obviously having been an amateur I hadn’t realized that it was next to impossible to isolate constellations through glass which does nothing but distort and hide what lies on the other side in an effort to allow a viewer to see the broken image.. You had sensed my inexperience because you too had found a love in astronomy, and pointed out that the stars are hard to see within the palace. You invited me to come with you one night to truly get a look at the night sky. I had agreed, and looking back I see I had made a naïve and dangerous decision in trusting a young man who was but a stranger to me, and it has all but broken my heart, you have all but broken my heart.
      I had agreed to come join you beneath a sea of stars visible only outside the wall of the only place I’ve ever seen. We held hands as you guided me to a small expanse of grass within an opening of the castle’s surrounding forestry. I felt as though we held hands like lovers, unknowingly gravitating into the other’s atmosphere only to brush fingers so slightly and shyly before lacing them together: our fingers forming some easily broken bond one would so desperately wish to keep strong.
That night as we watched the stars, I can recall looking to you and watching in shameless admiration as you became lost, gazing dreamily into the sky. I followed the line of your eyes and soaked in the beauty of the vast night sky that hung above Scotland; it was truly mesmerizing. I lowered myself to the ground to lie upon the grass and I remember you soon followed suit, lying next to me. You folded your arms beneath your head and let out a loud sigh. You always came here at night when there was a clear sky and the weather was warm, but you were always alone. You had never brought a girl, let alone the princess, there before. You felt the building desire bubble up inside of you like volcanic magma wishing to explode out in a fiery eruption as you listened to my quiet, feminine breathing and small movements as I adjusted myself from time to time on the grass next to you.
I remember that I had so desperately wished we were of the same life because I had longed to be you lover. You were too much of a gentleman to make the move, though your eyes were always on me when I wasn’t looking: drinking me in like the finest wine on the eve of Scotland’s greatest holiday. And I was too delicate an untouched flower to risk a break before the marriage to her betrothed even when I was tempted with the urge to be with you. I longed to kiss your perfect lips: so thin and so pink that they almost matched the tone of your skin because you were always naturally flushed.
      I can call to mind when I daringly brought my eyes to meet yours hoping you would see the yearning passion that had lain just behind the surface of my stare. I looked deep into your pupils but you were too chivalrous to act upon what you had seen, and felt, because I saw it there within your stare as well. I can bring to memory twirling my long, strawberry blonde locks around my finger and seductively biting my lower lip in a ploy to make you take the next step. I remember batting my thick lashes and finding no return gesture but the look in your eyes that sorrowfully said that we could not because you so desperately wished we could go further. You were terrified of my father and of the fallout that would happen as a result of the indiscretion that could have occurred that night.
      I wished we could have been lovers. I wished life would have allowed for us to have become an entangled mess beneath the constellations that hung above us. I wished we could kiss and run our fingers through each other’s hair. I wished we could flirtatiously grab at each other and take off our clothes and I wished it wouldn’t have been frowned upon to have such thoughts. I wished I were less than a princess and that you were more than a poor pageboy for the king all at the same time.
      At the height of your lust, you couldn’t take it anymore so you stood abruptly. You knew if we stayed any longer things would escalate into something neither of us could control, and something both of us would immediately regret, especially you, you would suffer the most of the consequences. When you stood, you turned yourself to face the direction of castle, toward the path which we came. You choked out the words that this was forbidden and that we must go back. You said that you had thought through the “what ifs” but we could not be: no matter what would happen it would end in heartbreak or disaster. So we walked slowly back to the castle and the silence was deafening. I’ve come to see that words are a human’s greatest weapon against the heart, they are comparable to a snake’s poison, but it is the absence of words that fill silence, and they are the words that sting the most. When we arrived at the door which led to my room, you stopped. You grabbed my hand, then like a butterfly lands, you sadly and delicately placed a soft kiss upon the top of my hand and sorrowfully spoke but three words; “I’m sorry milady.”

Love Blindness Has A Cure: Heartbreak- Final Draft: 2/17/12

You don’t see things the way I do. You don’t see how something petty could manage to kill the “us” that I tried so hard to maintain. I strived to keep you content and happy so you would stay as long as possible; I avoided any and all conflicts, then when they occurred I just folded underneath of you, caving under the pressure in order just to hold onto you: the one ray of happiness I’d been given in the eternal shadow of my life.

Perhaps the way my friend saw you behave with that other woman was just a mistake, maybe she was just a good friend of yours. Maybe you caressed her arm gently, and laughed lovingly together as would an old friend comforting another who had always been extremely close. She’s a woman though, those actions just seem too friendly. They seem too, I don’t know how else to say this, but too flirtatious: too borderline; Even so, I’d wanted to believe that you were faithful to me.

Loving you forced me to try and remember to see there may have been a different side to the story, but then again loving you made me fear the worst as well. I guess my mind was just wandering to the worst case scenario and now I’m trying to talk myself out of it because I know that I love you. It’s too hard not to love someone I had always believed was there for me, who had always had my back no matter what ‘d done. I love so much about who you are; I love your laugh, and how you can bring me back to that state of pure happiness from even the deepest and darkest state of depression; I love you and your deep set, mysteriously captivating eyes, that charming smirk you pass off as a smile that snagged me in your net like a unassuming fish; I love you and your strong arms that manage to wrap me in the most gentle and compassionate embrace, and that cause me to believe all is well but then ponder the “what ifs.” I love you... But now I have my doubts.

What if “us” was just a lie? What if she’s an illicit lover come to swipe you out from right underneath of my nose? What if she was just one of many women who you had seen during the course of “us”? What if I’m the other woman and she’s actually your one true love, meaning you were never truly mine to begin with? What if she’s a past love returning in hopes of reigniting the flame, robbing you from the cradle of my arms? What if you lead multiple lives and I am just one of the many foolish women who you have taken to?

I never dreamed that one day I would deem you unworthy of the love I had to give, but there are so many other things I’ve found to dislike and to disapprove of. Why must I always be the one to submit during a quarrel? Why do you always need to be right? Why did I change to suit your needs as our love blossomed? How did you manage to manipulate me like this? What had blocked me from noticing it before?

I never believed one day I’d be the one to break the chain that I thought linked us to one another forever. I never thought I’d be the one who would become desperate for a way out, for a way to look like less of a fool. I never thought I’d be the one who needed an escape. I hoped that you could forgive me, more so that I could forgive myself, when I was forced to break the bond we shared; When my hand was forced to destroy the “us” I had once believed would last an eternity over something ridiculous that I knew you’d done. Of course you wouldn’t see the error in your ways for you are almighty and everyone must bow beneath you for you are the all powerful king who wields the golden scepter and bathes himself in his own crowning glory upon the throne.

Once I had brought up the issue, there was no turning back; it was either throw myself out there and doubt your faith and loyalty to me or remain in the stasis of the idea you wouldn’t betray me as I thought you had. Well I did bring it up, and it was too hard for you to handle; I was more than just your blind and mute partner, I was a living, breathing human being who had opened her eyes and recognized she had a voice… This was so important to me because now I had heard my voice; I had realized my voice and its power, and oh how I used it against you. I used its power, potency, and clarity to speak out against you when I felt alone and unhappy. Not to mention that I had gained a sight that hadn’t been there before, I could see the whole picture; I could see myself as a strong individual in your absence. I could leave you and still stand tall... I could be the me who I had long forgotten existed.

What Couldn't Be Contained- Final Draft 2/6/12

Controlled by a world of fragility

Careful not to break the chains

I know that it’ll be too dangerous to free what’s been contained

It’ll be too hard to control

A world that I had purposely left untouched

I lost the key without a care

I hadn’t wished to return

Only to find the hurt I had buried there

I wanted nothing more to do with that dark place

The memories and bridges I had burned were burned deep into my eyes

When I turned my cheek to it, it came back to haunt me;

It raps at my mind’s front door, and then in it comes, forcing its way:

It pulls up on the windows; it breaks them and oozes in.

It bangs on the doors and then knocks them down,

It fills up the room

It rises all around me so I begin to drown.

It causes me to address the situation that’s at hand;

Rising out of the ashes of the extinguished,

is a beating heart glowing a brilliant red.

Long ago I struck the match that lit the fire, then fled.

I burned the whole place to the ground;

I doused it all in kerosene and lit a single matchstick.

I turned my back and ran as fast as I could

But still I felt the heat of the flame

I wanted to avoid any reason to return

I didn’t want to go back to what I had thought I escaped.

I wanted to forget, and make others forget

All that remained buried beneath the ash

What I thought would remain forever

I locked the place away inside myself

I took each precautionary measure

The blackened ash was scarcely seen and was never touched

Until now when whispers and wind exposed what I’ve left

It brings to memory all that I’d sworn to forget

Never did I want to unearth what remained beneath the soot

The memory of the jump that concluding in the heart shattering land

Fear of rejection, fear of connection, fear of the end occurred again and again

So only my damaged outer shell left me feeling the smallest bit of security

My heart felt like an unsolvable puzzle

It only began to solve itself after years of self preservation

Hardening my armor and holding steadfast to the only thing I trusted

The shoulder that absorbed every tear that cascaded down like leaves on a willow

It softened each blow that I felt

… He brought the puzzle’s completion with his love

He made me strong once again but he didn’t know about the abandoned ash;

He’d not been informed of my past…

Now the soot is settling in a new home, a new home within me

This new heart has emerged

It glows brilliant, blazing, shining and slick

It’s a heart like that of a wicked phoenix

Rising from the blackened ash of my past

This new heart has opened mine

Its glowing red rays are tangible an now they’ve grazed me

They’re sharp as blades

And what I could not foresee:

The whispering winds have blown the soot straight into my heart.

The damage I’ve sustained at the mercy of this new heart’s rays

Sting like the worst paper cut

And ache like the most brutal heartbreak

This radiant crimson heart dominates over mine

It disables my vessels and stops the flow

Draining the life out of me

I wish I could wake up from this nightmare:

my worst fear come to life.

But I know it’s reality, not a dream

It’s complete despair.

My past has come back to kill me with its merciless reincarnation

My heartbeat slowly withers away

Replaced by this infectious heart, mine fades

Its glowing rays of razor blades

Tear me up inside