For the soul, by the soul

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"Time heals" is a myth and an ultimate truth and that is the paradox that has me up late into the night, when I prod at old wounds and they don't really ache like they used to before. Crazy isn't it when I have begged and pleaded for things to change and now within the peace I feel sort of empty, like a cavern after the party is over and everyone has left to go home and you are left back to clean alone. 

I once had a conversation with someone who knows me well enough to know the tears flowing down my face were just a defence mechanism, (people lash out when cornered, I bawl ) but I digress, anyways this person pointed an accusatory finger at me and said you feel too much. It was the BIGGEST accusation, you feel too much, so much, where do you place all the feelings, all these emotions that explode out of you in strange, disconcerting bursts???

And I remember thinking I don't? Do I? Because up until then no one had ever said anything like that to me, ever. I have been accused of being avoidant, being a runner (metaphorically, I run of out of breath climbing up the stairs in my house),  but never of feeling too much, too deep. I now know what they meant back then and in celebration of that moment, here are a couple of poems? pieces of writing? - that I scribbled while y'know, feeling a bit too much; 


For kindness was the edge of the knife

That I chose to cut myself up over

A smile was all I needed

A kind gesture and I was a puppy

At your feet, head lolling

Begging for the scraps your threw my way

You couldn’t get me to stop

Even if you tried

Even if I wanted to


I don't really have a name for the piece of writing above and I have a habit of naming EVERYTHING, a blessing and a curse. But this particular one remains nameless, not because of anything special but because I am a little scared if I do end up naming, it might actually be true. Am I a glutton for a little bit of kindness? Am I starved for a bit of affection? Here is another one;



Love and War

Truth is, I am filled with so much regret it bleeds out of my pores

And as I swing the door shut on all the emotions that threaten to swell over 

Lest I tell you how much I miss you, i miss you

I blame the night we crossed paths, wretched enemies with hearts that love too much

My need to conquer and your willingness to roll over

I won the war but I lost you in the battle

I won. I won. I miss you. Don’t come back


I have lived 30 lives in the span of 23 years, because HOW do I explain this one? I have been in limerence a few times, won't call it love but something akin to it. And each time I ended up breaking both hearts by doing what I do best which is running like my life depends on it. This piece is about no one in particular, I haven't dated in a long while for very good reasons, but the emotions I felt have certainly left whisperings behind. 




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