Broken

She goes out just before the dawn,

The ground still damp with morning dew.

To breath in the calm wet air,

That smells of rain and soft earth.

She wants to beg a god for her forgiveness,

But she can’t quite make herself believe.

She is seeking in herself to find the answer,

To find a solution, to find truth.

But she hates herself right now, and always will,

For even her beauty has little worth.

She wishes she was pretty, that she liked her own face,

But when she looks in the mirror, she lets herself be decieved.

She has always lied to others, but cannot lie to herself,

And the pain from home is too much, she just wants to disappear.

As she stares at the sunrise, wishing she were someone else,

Someone with a nicer body, nicer face, funnier or loved.

This has always been her special place, special time, her shelter,

As she looks out at the water, dreaming about how it would feel to drown.

But she is done with all this crying, done with all this pain,

She has no more love nor tears to shed.

She wants to let go, fade, into nothingness; into the black and still beyond,

But she holds on for one more sunrise, one more moment.

She stands up, with moistened jeans, as wet as her tearful face,

And turns to face home, if that place existed, in her heart is where it could be found.

 

I am made of dark.

If words are the pictures inside my head,

Then I paint with many colors.

The longing and stride and length of word,

Prolong this ache inside.

But a fire inside burns slow and bright,

Illuminating all my dark.

But if I torch it all and start again,

Then there will be little left to rebuild.

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Whole Hearted

One does not know true agony until they have loved and lost.

Nor does one know true joy until love has been restored.

The heart speaks without native tongue.

If another’s heart speaks back, embrace them,

With body, mind and soul.

For it is not often a broken heart, once again becomes whole.

0heart

Remembrance.

My mind sways back and forth,

A tree under a storming sky. 

Afterthoughts strewn about,

Branches of regret and loss.

Nostalgic over both pain and joy.

Embrace the past to change the future. 

But we cannot go back,

We are trapped within our minds. 

But with each new seed we plant,

Sprouts remembrance. 

Memorial.

Things that never die. 

Words, like memories,

Are eternal. 

We mold them, shape them,

Nurture them and watch them grow. 

As in all things, 

Let the good out weigh the bad. 

Let your mind’s forest,

Lead you forward in life. 

But don’t forget to look back,

And remember what lurks inside. 

 

The One

gregtheinfinite:

From my other blog.

Originally posted on The Joy Project:

If you are looking for “the one” let me be the first to tell you they do not exist. There are no soulmates. Their is no Mr/Mrs right. There is no such thing as destiny when it comes to love.

Now I probably already lost half of you already, but I stand firm in what I said. There are no soulmates. That is not to say true love doesn’t exist. Because I believe it does. But our westernized view on love is so half-assed and backwards.

We romanticize falling in love so much in the western world that we forget about staying in love. This is part of the reason half of all marriages fail. We expect too much out of love, that ounce the happy-sugarcoated fluffy feelings start to dwindle and you are left dealing with a significant other pissing on the toilet seat or farting in bed. No…

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