some words breed as much pain, as silence does, they seep inside, and settle in, with a puncturing comfort, reminding us of their existence, each time we forget.
they make sure, that they make our memories work, and like a machine, they revise, reproduce, refurnish, like music, they ring in our ears, reminding us of our sin, our evil, our act and like a dagger they stab us, over and over they act like quick sand, dissolving us in, as time moves on, they replicate the task of a fire, where they shrivel us, leave burn marks, or sometimes, turn us to nothing but mere ashes words have a despotic power, they alter us, explode in us, and drastically numb us but not all words do... those that work, are the ones coming out of people we love...
She picks up the dusty old book,and runs her hand over the fine thick cover, opens itNostalgia hits,as she turns the pages, it flows open right onto the chapter she loved the most,and reading the words, she realized that she could read them with her eyes closed, they were committed to her mind, and written all over her heart,the valued words, attached to those treasured memories, which were not only the frivolities of those days gone by, but were the white light, which had guided her, the halo on her head which identified her, the wings on her back which helped her fly high, the white dress which made her feel safe and untainted, She hoped the chapter to never end, because it still helps her figure things out, when they go wrong, it still helps her be faithful, it still makes her smile everytime she cries. You were something sincere in her life.Something precious.And the only thing true.So she bookmarked you.
Love isn't simple Life isn't lifewhen you try so hardto fight and strivethe wrenching withinthe throbbing the twingeit tears you apartor helps you win But you close your weak eyesIn broad day lightYou pretend you didn’t feelAnd remain
in forged delightyou wait for things to come around, Hoping they might,What we don't know is That we seem to be searching For rainbows at night
as i burn down all the bridges
linked up to my past
i don't feel anymore lighter
then i should have,
the presence of absence
deep inside of me
makes the pain heavier to bear
and i can't stop
all the times we had
when crying was never an option and laughing was genuine when company was, taken for granted, and love, was all we had
the floodgate of inconsistent feelings, set against my owns self, and then i relate to the feeling of being "nobodys enemy but my own"
the tempest of thoughts, which roars inexorably within me, forces my faith to waver back and forth, making me love the things i hate, and hate the things i love. the tempest storms around, plucking out all the onceupona courage i had, it damages the pride, and scatters my devotion, it turns the tables, and weaves its way into my mere existence, settling in, making my heart its home, and my mind its workplace!
as i try to placate this uproar within me, it placates all the memories too,
and as i set out on this insidious task of discovering myself, and understanding my motifs i realise that,
understanding someone implies, that you stop blaming them and holding them accountable for the circumstance, it means that you know that they don't mean to voluntarily cause the pain, but it doesnt mean that you aren't pained!