Under the stars 

When I was young I could only imagine death , my obsession grew and I lay awake at night surrounded in darkness imagining nothing, no one really to talk to or explain it all to me. So I filled this blank dark space with stars, and each star was alive with someone I cared about, and slowly as I grew older the stars started to fill up and there was no blank space or stars, and as people filtered into my life only to leave again yet again I fill the black sky thinking of death as I always do, and I see stars and light shining way above me. And the silence you ask? well I simply fill that with music, so much music, sad songs, happy songs, strange songs, noises that fill every sense of your soul, and leaves you thinking, IF I am truly alone, how can someone create something that sings to my soul?

See there is never darkness around you, how could you possibly see the darkness if there was never any light? And tell me this if it is so quiet, if you too are alone with no one to talk too like me, no one to reach out too – tell me why there is a song in your head soothing your soul, some forgotten gem that drifts into your mind. IF you truly fear the dark why can a stunning sunset draw a tear to your eye, we cannot possibly never hurt, or cry, parts of us will die inside, the other parts they will fight for you, there is no tomorrow for any of us nothing in life is certain, but we have today and we have right now, and the ability within that not one of us can measure until it is needed.

The day maybe drawing to a close, you may like me be frustrated by it all, thinking what have I achieved, what have I done, I can answer without asking, you have lived today, you are breathing and that is inspirational in itself.

 There is hope in living, however strained it is there, there are stars to guide you and music to love you, hope can consume you. Maybe Idealistic maybe not, what is certain is you have the here and now, and you will have love, and you will find that place, go gently forward because the past is not something you can change, but the future is yours to shape.

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Make me forget 

(Laying myself bare)

You almost made me forget, love.

You almost made me forget the hurt; the pain; the sorrow.

You almost made me forget about the emptiness:

 You almost made me forget his name.

You almost gave me hope;

You almost made me think that I might be whole again;

                                    Someday

 You almost gave me hope that I can be fixed, 

 You almost made me think that maybe,

 I could fall in love again.

 You gave me hope that maybe; I really wasn’t this

                               B-R/O-K/E-N

You almost made my heart beat faster,

You almost made me really smile, 

You almost made me want to let you in;

You almost made me want to be with you;

You almost made me think I could be happy.

You almost made me forget, sir.

You almost made me forget that he and I ever happened.

You almost made me forget his face & his eyes; the color of deep emeralds.

You almost made me forget the way he kissed me,

You almost made me forget the way his savagery felt.

You almost made me forget.

                                      {Why couldn’t you make me forget?}

You almost gave me hope that I was strong,

You almost made me think that I had enough left to make it through,

                                   You almost gave me hope.

  You almost made me think you could heal me,

  You almost made me wanna try and make it work with you,

  You almost became my light;

  You almost became something to keep me together.

  You almost kept me from falling apart.

  You almost made me forget.

Sir, I want to forget.

I want to forget they way he looked at me with his dark forest eyes.

                        I want to forget his taste,

                        I want to forget his face

                        I want to forget the way he said my pet;

                        I want to forget the way he said he loved me.

                        I want to forget he ever claimed to love me.

                        I want to forget his scent,

                        I want to forget the way his arms wrapped so tightly around my throat;

                        I want to forget the way it felt to have me fear him.

                        I want to forget.

                        {ithurtstoremember}

Please, sir, make me forget

{therestoomuchpaininthememories}

MAKE ME FORGET!

 Please;

 I don’t wanna remember.

These memories are haunting me,
But you keep the demons away,

So will you please stay?

You almost made me forget,

 You almost gave me hope

  You almost made me want you

& You could have succeeded in all these things but,

                               You left.

You left me alone for one short moment,

But it was long enough for the pain to come back,

& by the time you returned, I remembered everything.

You almost made me forget-

 I need to forget!

 
Sir, make me forget.

 Look at me with your summer-storm eyes,

 & be my summer rain in the dead of winter,

 Wash away my hurt, cleanse me.

  Drown everything out be the very existence of you, of me, of us.

I need to be held together,

So wrap me up in your arms and hold me close,

Don’t let go;

I don’t wanna fall apart tonight.

Hold me closely,

Let me heal in your protective embrace,

Let me forget,

Erase my pain with your words and whips.

I don’t know exactly where this is going 

All I know is that I need you, you make me forget the pain

& Right now, that’s exactly what I need,

Sir, please hold me, kiss me, tell me you care,

& Make me forget as only you ever can.

Sick,twisted games.

“You’ve exceeded my expectations,”   You say with a gleam in your eye,

                    “I thought you’d be BROKEN by now.”
Well, I guess this just means I’m

             |S|T|R|O|N|G|E|R| then you thought.
I may be young,

      But I’m not stupid,

                & I may be scarred,

                   But that doesn’t mean I’m weak.
& I REFUSE to let you 

               Keep playing games with me.

                   {My heart is not a toy}
“But, my dear, 

    I love you.”

                    Bullshit.

If this was love,

            You wouldn’t be 

            Trying to |k|i|l|l| me.
I’m not the stupid little girl you assume me to be.
I WONT let you keep

         M E S S I N G with my HEAD.
I NO LONGER wanna play 

           Your SICK, twisted,

                   GAMES.
Baby, I’m done.

              I hate who I’ve become.
“Baby, you’re delusional,

      I haven’t done anything wrong,

                         None of this is me

Everything’s’ gone to hell,

                          & Darling, 

                             It’s all because of 

                                      Y o u.”
                    God! Just let me GO!

                   You have not met my expectations.
Your words-

        They aren’t sincere.

                     & Your love for me

                        Is just as f a k e

                              As the smile glued onto my

                                         Tear drop-tasting lips.
This is me drawing the line,

       This is me breaking f r e e,

  {You don’t own me}
I’m done with us,

            I’m DONE with you.
I’m done with all the words being spoken not being true,

             I no longer have faith in you.
& Next time, baby,

           I wont exchange my expectations,

                                        For a bunch of pretty lies.

That feeling 

you know that feeling when you’re lying on the ground and all your blood is pouring out and you know you’re slowly dying, but you’ve lost too much blood that you can’t get up, and you don’t even care to do anything about it? that’s me right now. and I’m not sure if what I’m seeing now is a dream or if my life is flashing before my eyes or if it’s something else, but

this is what I see: I’m hunched over the toilet puking my brains out, and a voice tells me the end of the world is coming. somehow I have the energy to run to your house. somehow, before the windows shatter and everything becomes nothing, I grab your hand and this is how we turn to dust.

this is what I see: I barge into your room as you’re taking a toke, and at first you panic, but then you say, “oh, okay. it’s just you.” it’s just me.

this is what I see: the world is spinning. it’s a blur of lights, a carousel of colours. I’m dancing. when I close my eyes, I see myself falling, but keeping my eyes open makes me feel dizzy. I’m confusing the sights I see with opened eyes for the pictures I see with closed eyes. I’m scared to death. I’m crying hysterically. I’m so fucking drunk. 

this is what I see: my guts on the footpath. it looks like a picture I sketched last week. it looks like the bruises on my left hip and right cheek. I see a world with no sun but with flashlights blinding me and one hundred faces in my face poking me with sticks and asking me if I’m still alive.

this is what I see: I’m running. the wind is strong enough to push me down to my knees, and running too fast is still not fast enough, so I run until my lungs crumble and I collapse and I cry I cry I cry. I look like I’m drowning in a river but feeling alright. I see myself lying in the grass and I’m inhaling, I’m exhaling. the earth underneath me is breathing with me, and maybe I will not die alone after all.

Now

“Laying alone with the history that made you cold and uncertain inside. Careful now, deep breath, the water’s still rising. But your silver lining’s in sight.”

What could of been, should of been, might of been?

What you see, what you think, whats real, and whats not.

Confusion, peace, despair, hope, anger, sadness, happiness.

If only this. If only that. Just to go back. Just to move forward.

But stop.

There is here. There is now. There is you and nothing else.

My thoughts pull me under and I reach for you to pull me up. You deliver me from myself and provide the easy silence I need, the comfort and protection.

Never fooling me into believing its over or going to be easy, but just promising yourself, never for me to be alone.

Dear Someone

I don’t know who you are or why I had the sudden urge to write this. You could be anyone in the whole wide world. But for some reason, you were on my heart this morning. I haven’t slept all night, and I guess staring at the ceiling makes one think about what really matters.

You’re one-of-a-kind, you know that? Not factory-made, not mass-produced, not something but someone. Even if you’re a twin or triplet, you’re uniquely and wonderfully you. There is something about you that no one else has, and that the world would be woefully without if it were taken away. From the curve of your eyelashes to the barest hint of a smile at one corner of your mouth when you’re trying not to laugh, you’re a collection of little miracles all wrapped up into one special and wonderfully made package. Each of your cells custom-made, chains of DNA specifically forged and coded just for you. But you’re more than science. You’re tangible and intangible, physical and ethereal, radiating emotion and life from your mass and though you may not see it, you’re an essential part of this world. You’re not an accident, and you’re here for a reason. Though it’s sometimes hard to understand why things can be so hard, and you may come to question your very existence, you must never let go. Because with you gone, there’d be a black hole that’d suck everyone into a gloomy darkness, because your light would be irreplaceably extinguished. You may think you’re unloved, friendless, rejected, alone, but you’re never really alone. Every word and deed you speak and commit form a thread in the web of your life, and you never know how another person, invisible to you, may need that thread as a lifeline. So don’t hold back; don’t give up. Remember that people need you to be you and that you’re not just a statistic, not just a name or a number, but a living breathing amazing person, someone who’s part of something bigger than life itself. Times are tough, you may fail and fail again, but you must never stop trying. Never, ever. There are dreams waiting for you to discover, people waiting for you to come into their lives and brighten their days, and miracles waiting to happen. Just please, please, please believe. Because believing is what makes dreams come true, even if they’re dreams you never knew you even had.
-Rosie 

Hope

There are times when one loses hope. When one just stands there, for a single moment, and stares. Just stares out into the horizon, looking and looking, almost as if waiting for something to come. But it never comes. They stand there, they watch, and they wait, and they are disappointed. No one is exactly sure what keeps giving them hope, or enough courage to stand there another time, but something does. Something, deep down, reaches up into their mind and says, wait again, it will come. So they wait because that’s what the voice told them to do, that’s what their feelings say, and they keep waiting. Some wait all of their life, without ever getting what they want. Others, the voice just stops trying, stops telling them to go back and look, they just stop. And some, never get there at all. 

Is it wrong for them to have that hope? To dream that dream that one day, whatever they are looking for will finally come? Maybe it is wrong, maybe they have been misled, and misjudged, and they don’t know what they are truly supposed to do anymore, but its never wrong to them. That hope that they lost, maybe it wasn’t really lost at all. Maybe it just settled down for awhile, itself also waiting, for the day when it is supposed to come back. Maybe its going to come back, but that body that they inhabit doesn’t last long enough for its return. 

Sometimes people stand there, and while they are looking, they give up. For a fraction of a second, they stand there, and they think to themselves, “Its not going to happen,” and then that’s the end. Sometimes that one person, standing, and all alone, is too alone to keep going. That their giving up has nothing to do with who they are, or what they want, or what they can do, but has everything to do with the fact of how strong they are when they stand alone, and wait. Sometimes one loses hope, but is it our place to say whether or not they get it back again?

A haunting 

The ghosts, they walk amongst us.

Shadowing us, hiding around corners waiting. A sudden laugh in a party, a glint in a stranger’s eye, a smell or sound that suddenly makes your pulse quicken and an ill chill finger itself up your spine and grasp your neck.

Maybe I have been too sure of late. Too certain, too stupid. Oblivious, unseeing.

That email conversation; that piece of  agony and recrimination that I thought I had deleted forever from my inbox. I read the words slowly, pushing myself to finish it, hating every minute but needing to do it, like sucking at a bad tooth. The metallic taste of blood fills my mouth where I subconsciously bite my lip. My heartbeat quickens as a fog descends upon my brain and the whole world seems to slide on its axis and leave me reeling and nauseous, in a limbo of my own making. As it was at the time.

And I feel you, ghost. I feel you behind me, your hand heavy on my shoulder. You have found the box, the box inside my head where our words were laid to rest. You have prised it open, for I never locked it. Your words, as always, drown mine out. Your fingers, ice-cold with bitterness, pluck every innocent phrase, every plea, every apology, every ounce of love and respect in that conversation and scatter it before my eyes once more.

You laugh your hollow laugh with your cold, dead eyes and remind me of my wrongdoings, my failings, my flawed humanity whilst you move in to suck the certainty from my undeserving marrow.

Listen, ghost. Look. There is a storm coming.

Watch as the blue sky bloodies and bruises. Watch as the crows wheel and caw in the rising winds, circling, curious. Listen to the leaves sing out high in the waving trees, see them fall to the ground small and brown, then whip and twirl around my bare ankles and then rush ahead in their little chattering gangs. Either dancing, or afraid.

Hear the black dog howl.

And, over in the vacant plot, see the lone magpie peck and scratch amongst the nettles and the rubbish. Watch her hop amongst the discarded chip wrappers, the plastic bags that dance on the low, cold breeze. Watch her, and watch her well.

Walk with me a while, ghost. There is a storm coming.

Walk with me when the rain starts. Keep that heavy hand on my shoulder as my soaked hair whips my face and the cold rain clings. Walk with me as I raise my face to the bellowing skies to feel, to taste, to live each raindrop. To live.

Ghost, the storm will set me free.

Ghost, the storm will return you to where you belong, carried away with the howling winds along the rain-drenched slick black streets where I cried so many times for you.

But I will fear you no more.

Forgive me

Forgive me, because I don’t know how to forgive myself.

Forgive me for hiding my tracks, hurting someone who only wanted me to be safe and cared for in my darkest moments.

Forgive me for not being true to myself and compromising my integrity, faith, beliefs and strength out of fear of rejection.

Forgive me for letting myself slip into my demons, allowing them to culminate and get the best of me.

Forgive me for not knowing what to do and floundering through my days.

Forgive me for a lack of clarity, respect, trust and judgement.

Forgive me for not being able to let go just yet and re-opening old wounds.

Forgive me, for I am in my darkest and don’t know how to do so for myself.

Prose play

You probably didn’t notice the empty bottles of gin on the dresser beside my bed where you fucked me. I guess I can’t really call it rape if you said, “Spread your legs, babe” and I listened. It was hard for you to hold me after that; I was shivering and shaking and crumbling into pieces, and you know, it’s hard to hold a body that’s just pieces. You can fuck my body, but that doesn’t mean shit— it’s hard to hold a body when the hands are silently catching stardust in a daydream.

I had a dream that I was hit by a car on my way to your house. Losing blood wasn’t even what was important about it. What mattered was that I had repressed emotions that needed an escape route. I heard an ambulance in the distance, but I was just fine. I limped the rest of the way to your house and left a trail of blood on the path. Had to let you know that the suicidal thoughts do not glitter; they’re not shards of glass that you feel pressing into your skin. They’re not bright like headlights gleaming in your face while you’re sinking in the passenger’s seat, drowning in the idle talk dripping from the driver’s mouth. Surprisingly, they’re not wet like tears or blood; they’re dried up, and what’s been drained from me has no colour. My thoughts are colourless—they don’t shine.

Pricked you with a fork and looked for your soul’s escape route, but you didn’t fall out; you stayed in your body, and instead I was the bleeding mess on the floor. It was your bedroom floor mess, you called it. I left the vomit exactly how it spilled out— the belly of an angel and her glittery muck. What a mess, you say, what a goddess. It was my brain spat out into physical reminders. 

Someone once told me that every ten years, your body is completely anew, like your cells have died and been replaced by new ones so you’re not the same hunk of matter you once were, but you’re somehow still you because you have your memories. 

8am. park sitting, I am thinking about you. I am thinking about when I was passed out on the couch at the pub and you were putting your shoes on at the door. Your voice was the sound of my favourite record spinning while the fabric of the couch was fading from my touch. With my head fading out of our conversation, your voice was cracking in all the right spots, breaking me in all the right places. One day I’ll see your face smiling in a fogged window from the outside, and it won’t hurt the way it does right now. 
I sit here home now,a hunk of this. Thinking. Looking at pictures. You can swim in the distance in his eyes. You made that distance gallons of water to drown yourself in. Liquid kisses— the sex with the glittering orgasms— your touch was first neon and electric, then it was snowflakes landing on the skin, and now it’s just clouds in the sky.