A little taste of something

Hate

This comes the easiest to me. I know it like an old friend.

One that never left despite the many arguments. It festers inside of me growing in the places that love was never able to reach. Still, this is not the easiest for me to admit. I do not like feeling this way no matter how much it comforts me in the end. I think it is because it focuses me.

I am not alone when I am in pain.

If I share it with others there is a chance it will go away.

I have been accused of wallowing in my own self pity

I guess that is based on some truth.

I do not want it to end…it can’t.

I can tell them I hate them though it may take me some time to do so. I love the feeling of disgust. I love how my blood boils when I see them. Hearing their name gives me such a delicious feeling and I am not sure if I want it to stop.

Hate

I know this feeling like a long lost friend.

It is something that stood by my side when everything else had gone. Even now I sit in it. Letting it fester inside of me, reminding me of things best left in the past. I need it to survive because without it…I might as well be dead.

Split

There once was man who went to jail

Then to hell, and back again

He told this story to a friend

Who told it to another friend

A vicious cycle as the years went by

When suddenly the man

Decided to lie

He never went to hell you see

Jail brough upon him this fantasy

But the story had been told

Him and friend soon grew old

Generations past and the story grew

Yet it wasn’t the one we originally knew

See this man went to jail you see

But soon he decided to bleed

So he slit his wrist

His neck

His eyes

Really this man wanted to die

But then he found himself in hell

But was told that he did not belong there

So back to jail

This man was freed

But between you and me

He never should have left.

A/N this will most likely be continued in another poem since I never actually figured out which version was the truth and which one was the lie. Clearly this has only one version show buuut I got more to say…I think.

Joyful Motherhood

I don’t know how to tell my mother I love her. For that, I guess I should be grateful. How can I say such things when I really do not understand the meaning, the feeling, of these simple words. If it were up to me I would shout them from the heavens. I would tell her all the ways I appreciate her and the things she has done. How proud of her with how far she has come. I guess that is love and yet I am confused. These words, so overly spoken, only have meaning because I give them such. So what if she hears my shouted words and hears something other then love? Does that make what I said false?

Should I give up?

See, the word love has always confused me. It is a subjective response to something. What I may confuse as love others may believe it to be anything but…but would that be my fault?

Maybe because I do not understand this I can not accurately predict the way which is best to express it. What if my mother needs gifts, simple actions, wishes of more? Of course, for a friend it would be different, for my daughter even more so.

How can I unpack the various ways to show love and accurately pinpoint which ones works best with which person without going through the motions of stress.

I guess this is a lot to think about because, honestly, none of it really matters in the grand scheme of things. See life is unpredictable, at least it is to me. Something so simple as love and expression, trust and affection, will not look the same for everyone I meet. But intention! Yes, see intention, is sometimes all that matters.

I do not know a lot about love but I wish for my mother to know how much I care. I want her to know that I appreciate the courage it has taken her to bring her children to this point. I have a daughter, my own precious little one, and my mother has given me all of her skills, the good and the bad in raising her. I may not know how to properly show this love but I feel my intent, with every attempt, is enough.

A bridal shower in the red room

A bride in white

With the lace trim

And satin slippers, whispers

Cautious as the groom strolls

For she knows that he lies

But she hides

And she cries

And she bides her time

Trying to get it just right

Potent is the dish

In which revenge sits

But she wishes

Oh she wishes

That it wouldn’t end like this

But fate has other plans

As the grooms men stroll

Taking tallies of the delicious whims

And dances of the girls last night

Soaking up the boose

And the drugs too

Groom lost his hand

But found it again

At least

That is how the story goes

told to the waiting bridesmaid

On the front page of the news stand

But she of course didn’t listen

Wouldn’t wish this in any man

Or women, for that matter

And yet we sit in the closet

Bride holding the blade in hand

While the groom lays on the ground

Retelling the story from the news stand

As the braidmaids listen

and the grooms men walk

Only to sit by because lies aren’t enough

So the groom goes to reach

Guess he found his hand agian

But oh wait…

It’s gone!

Another soul made of rainbows

My mother loved another soul

But soon she had to let it go

Now I can hear my mothers tears

Whispered wishes that she dares not feel

A little one who held her close

A little one who loved her most

My mother loved another soul

So much so she let it go

Dispite the tears that she cries

And the whispers she tries to hide

She did what she felt was best

But it was I who was laid to rest

See my mother loved another soul

So much so she watched them grow

And when she could remember me

In her soul she did weep

But I am watching over her

And that soul she held so close

Music to my soul

Move your body in time to tones

Slowly gracefully as you go

I am a ghost of a simple past

Tasting a painting that can not last

Faded with time I am all that left

But dance to remember what you loved best

Move your body in time to beats

Stationed swaying as you think

I am a spirit from the past

Tasting a memory that can not last

Faded with love that never left

Dance to the music that you love best.

Healing vibes.

Share a story that has hurt you.

Something that ripped you to tiny piece and made it as though you didn’t not think you would survive.

Share that story, leave out no details, because I have a feeling this will help you heal.

Realize how much you have conqured.

The painful memories you can’t bear to hold.

Just let them go.

Share me a story if your deepest fear. Tell it all and leave out no details.

We need to see we are not alone.