Happiness, a fleeting thing,
particular, its granules scatter
into atoms carried by the wind;
separated, it doesn’t matter
who it touches, how far it goes,
because apart, it is not whole;
a small dose only lasts a heartbeat,
then abruptly, we must pay the toll
in sadness, which always seems so pure,
it’s never scattered from its source,
it merely lies in wait of prey
and when it strikes, we feel remorse
for the loss of loved ones taken early,
and all the things we should have said;
how do we fight this beast that feeds
on angry hearts where’er it treads?
Bitterness ekes at this depression so slowly,
making time move at a snail’s pace,
feeding the hunger deep within her hollow heart,
filling her with the familiarity that she craves.
She knows how to be sad, but when things are great,
her brain screams to her that something must be wrong,
for nothing should be so perfect,
for when it is, it must be fake.
Though logically, she knows
that the real illusion lies within the sadness
tucked away inside the marrow of her bones,
she quietly resigns to its painful pull.
Her heart aches from the fullness of devouring
the decadent feelings she’s so used to accepting,
and it does not have the enzymes to digest,
so, each time, it will burst, and she never finds all of the pieces.
Let us drown the sadness,
suffocate it and make it pay
for all the tears,
all the uncomfortable goodbyes
and empty promises.
Let us take the heartaches
and the bitter fights
and make them merely memories
floundering about inside
our dizzy heads,
and then,
when the time is right,
when the hour comes
for us to forget,
they will die,
too.
I don’t feel right today.
As if the light has been snuffed from my eyes, I feel dark. Empty. Cold and sick, my stomach roils at the thought of facing the day. The ill is coming up, slowly, surely, and soon, it will overflow from my body, leaking, then pouring out, surrounding me and those I love with bitter sadness that has no place. It calls me home, so why does it want so badly to escape?
No matter how many times I write the ending,
it never comes.
If I had offered you the stars,
no, the entire night sky,
would you have used it as your blanket,
or just a trinket, memorabilia
of what we once had
so many moons ago?
Would it have changed the fact
that we can’t stop believing in
the hollow moans our eyes sigh
when they now meet?
Would anything have been enough
to staunch this bleeding?
Avoidance
There are times when I have to remind myself to feel. I am the master of avoiding discomfort and pain, and this is no exception. I have only briefly let myself take in the giant splash’s ripples, but it has not been enough.
All my brain does when it starts to feel the crippling sadness settling in is think of ways to avoid it. I drive with nowhere to go trying to outrun my pain, but I always come back, and it’s always sitting at the back door where I left it, waiting for me to acknowledge it, waiting for me to feel it. I take its presence in, and that’s all I can handle before I turn my nose up in disgust and find further distractions to take my mind away from the hollow presence patiently waiting at my doorstep.
I do not want it to worm inside my brain, tainting all the happy memories it comes across. But I suppose that’s why we have to feel, so we can learn to deal with the contusion in a healthy way. I may know this, but it doesn’t make it any easier; my mind is trained to avoid.
Free Yourself
If only you could see what I see when I look into those sad blue eyes. I can feel the sorrow of a thousand centuries whisking by in a millisecond’s time. But you are not that sadness. You have merely accumulated an ocean of bitter tears over the course of your life. Behind all the raw emotion lies a little boy, a child, just begging to be free from the chains he’s confined in. He wants to breathe, but he’s underwater, and he will drown if he lets his lungs take anything in.
To free him, you must drain the sadness from your bones and only let it in when you need to feel it; there is a time for everything, and sadness is only good in moderation, much like wine.
And also like wine, it is addicting, and you are so dependent upon it, it mimics oxygen, fooling you every time.
Drain your ocean. Unlock the shackles. Be free. Your spirit will thank you, and the angels will rejoice because your joy will be unmatched.
Let the boy go. Everyone deserves to breathe.
Avoidance
There are times when I have to remind myself to feel. I am the master of avoiding discomfort and pain, and this is no exception. I have only briefly let myself take in the giant splash’s ripples, but it has not been enough.
All my brain does when it starts to feel the crippling sadness settling in is think of ways to avoid it. I drive with nowhere to go trying to outrun my pain, but I always come back, and it’s always sitting at the back door where I left it, waiting for me to acknowledge it, waiting for me to feel it. I take its presence in, and that’s all I can handle before I turn my nose up in disgust and find further distractions to take my mind away from the hollow presence patiently waiting at my doorstep.
I do not want it to worm inside my brain, tainting all the happy memories it comes across. But I suppose that’s why we have to feel, so we can learn to deal with the contusion in a healthy way. I may know this, but it doesn’t make it any easier; my mind is trained to avoid.
Helpless
It hurts to know
your sadness,
it hurts to know
I’m helpless
in your greatest time
of need,
when the depression
rushes over you,
ocean waves crashing,
rip tide pulling
you into the sea.Nature is stronger
than I’ll ever dream,
and you are forced under,
no breath left
to even cry,
much less call out
but I hear you
and your silent teardrops
though they fall
from your face submerged
in merciless waters.And though I know that I’m
a talented swimmer,
your sadness trumps
any skill I may have,
no matter how much;
I’m so helpless
to save you
from drowning.
