turn on the night light

Pain.  I remember the Room of Pain The doors were locked, bolted shut The windows concrete Thin; I fought so hard to break them I did.  Bloodied, scratched, scarred Pain.  Blood dried, scratches healed. Scars lightened.  Pain. Pain stays, lingers Sways like a wave.  Shallow, shallow, shallow, Deep.  I take one step too far  and I drown in it.  You taught me how to see  Pain. You taught me how to feel  Pain.  I can small pain.  I smell salt air I smile. I stay longer to  smell more and more. I don't smell it now.  Accustomed.  I leave; pass the  time When I return, I smell salt air.  That is how I smell Pain.  I smell it. I taste it. I see it.  I feel it. I hear it. I sense it.  My stomach, my hands, my soul.  I escaped the Room of  Pain.  But I drag the chain behind me as I walk away from it. A link here.  Three links there.  An accumulation of  Pain.  Q...

Intoxication.  I'm consumed, swallowed whole  from the words that leave your lips.  They, you, fill me, a catalyst, a fire, to burn for myself, to reach high, higher than I've dare gone before.  Beauty.  It lies within your voice, the reassurance you express  in a tone of truth and possibility,  I am awe-struck.  Seduction.  It pours itself into my cup,  overflowing with desire and  satisfaction that comes from your  touch. Confusion.  My brain tumbles and turns to determine how you came across my  wavelength, yet grateful, it feels,  because you did.  Surrender.  I fold at the sound of your voice  and the direction of your eyes.  I am your equal, yet I submit  willingly to senses I trust most.  Foundation.  The most important step in the process, where the strength, the endurance, lies.  Our individual resilience  conjoins, and within that,  holds a dynamic power...

When I said I wanted to feel your touch, I wanted to feel your fingertips along the ridges of my bare back, sliding down as slowly as your gaze fell upon my lips.  Instead, you raised your hands from my hands to my heart, and you gripped it tight. Your strength diminishing the light in my eyes. You took me when my heart was broken, and you shattered it with the palm of your hand.  I wanted you to fill a part of me that longed for you, a flame that burned, regardless of the sorrow you blew my way; testing the flames endurance, another game to you.  Yet you checked me, I was just a pawn in the game you played, another heart locked in the jar you kept so close, a locker deep in the abyss of your mind.  The flame that once burned went out, but with no credit to your mastermind of emotional manipulation, but my removing myself from the oxygen that you gave to me, by my own power.  I used to question what made me turn the page and begin again, dreaming of your wings, ...

 there are so many things i could say to you. but the words that i come up with most  are,  "i'm sorry." it wasn't my fault, but i take the blame. was there more i could do? more i could say? none of it would have made a difference. we would still be here, apart, forever. you're with me now, in a different way. that's what i hear, what they tell me. those words do not fill the void, the loneliness i feel without your presence here. there is a silence, now. a grey, dull emptiness that nothing fills.  does time fill the hole? will i ever become whole again? or am i left broken, permanently  fragmented, learning to live as a  broken record that still  plays? I feel selfish moving forward,  yet powerful, too.  the power i have to take control, to live.  but to live, to live and breathe while you are dead is a battle  i fight often.  it shouldn't be you. it should never have been you.  your warm hands quickly turned  cold....

 I twist my brain in different directions, an attempt to make sense of the tragedy that befell upon you, upon us. A rope, already twisted and tangled, a feat to straighten it out that you also took onto your shoulders, when they were already bearing the weight of your own world. In a moment, you were gone. Spirited away into another dimension, occupying the space that Mother universe has provided you, us. Though I cannot touch your rough hands and soft hair, many time has come where I feel you surrounding me, embracing me with your warmth as you once did, an inner warmth inexplicable to those who do not experience such separation as we. When I close my eyes at night and my soul begins to wake, I see you. I see your eyes filling me with adoration and power. I hear you, your soft, gentle reassurance that I am well, I am making you proud. I can smell you, morning after cologne pulsating from your neck, radiating from the t-shirt you wore to bed. I can taste you, the savory sweetness o...

Every lotus blooms after its time in the mud. How long can the dark times be before you   Blossom into color? If all you see is brown, How do you know what else is there? To know the height and depth of blues, The richness of purples and mauves, The statements and emotions that Follow reds. In its child-like state, the lotus Knows what its shown. As does she. The little girl that sits in the grass, Staring at the tree that is her Friend. She does not know much, But she knows some. She knows what they tell her to see, Or not to see. The lotus is planted at the bottom of the lake Its roots deep underneath the dark, wet soil. It knows the darkness, where its roots will then Grow. She too, knows the darkness. She though, does not grow within it. The tree friend stares back at her, silent. Its leaves are chattering to her in spurts, Telling her where to put her rocks and moss. The décor of the crevices that she hides her So...