I was damaged...
She bought me muffins.
I was conditioned...
...till all the muffins tasted like dust.
She took my little hands and helped me up the broken stairs.
I sat there next to her,
beside a broken headstone.
The poem in which he predicted the day of his own death,
had barely survived...
like his memory...
almost completely scratched away by sharp nails of time...
I looked at her as she whispered with heart wrenching disappointment in her eyes
With parents who left her too soon...
A knock on the grave to wake the dead up.
She still believed that the nothing under piles of dirt can hear her pain.
I played and pranced and giggled around the godforsaken graveyard.
I was damaged...
He bought me candies.
I was conditioned...
...till all the candies tasted bitter.
No I can't feel safe,
but do you really blame me?
I'm the little girl who was never really held.
I grew up learning to hold and not be held.
But I,
grew up.
What helped me survive has become my poison.
There’s nothing glorious about surviving.
Reminds me of them,
resuscitating a man who was dead for years.
Broken ribs
and punctured lung
and the magic of life slipping through godly hands of doctors.
It's funny how they try to bring that pulse back
in spite of how better off you are not having it.
I never asked for a crippled emotion and a DOA soul.
Is it worth it?
Don't you ever wonder what, who, how you could be?
If you didn't have to spend all these days trying to see,
to feel,
to be,
this apparition that haunts your dreams?
I still keep seeing you sickly resting your fragile bones on an uncomfortable death bed.
It’s always there
as if it’s tattooed on my soul.
Like I remember the smell of your cologne on the last shirt you wore,
as I pressed it against my chest trying to absorb it into my heart...
and you still thought you'd survive.
I admire that lying, cheating, unbelievably brave heart of yours.
I really, REALLY do.
I learned that you should just pick a goddamn side
and stay on it.
But you didn’t.
You kept flying back and forth
Until I found out how it feels like
to be the ‘constant’,
only in the family pictures.
No one mourned me because no one noticed I was gone...
I woke up with a heavy heart today,
resuscitated,
again.
Looked out the window and was reminded of you;
bare trees show off their scrawny shoulders and make way with their skeletal fingers
for a pale blue sky.
Holding it high,
higher than I can reach for.
The pallid moon,
smells like winter.
It loosens up my senses,
as I inhale my submissive, meek soul back into my body
Seriously, I’m okay!
How dare you question my sincerity?
My muscles twitch,
and I open myself and a huge chunk of confusion swishes in.
The window fades into my skin,
and you flicker like a candle.
I bask in the wavering glow of your heart one last time,
and I fall into two halves.
A half where it’s morning
but the little soldiers in my veins can’t get out of bed!
And the other half of me falls into the shadows.
I feel like how God must be feeling;
Existing unnoticeably.
Like an evaporated presence,
in a summer noon,
running in an undercurrent in the city’s veins.
And life goes on,
with or without me...
or Him.
There’s no real amends you can make for ignoring me…us.
Your lack of faith in me must be anguishing enough for you.
I lack sophistication.
The clumsiness my body drags with it...
so heavy.
Weightless,
dark and cool.
I want to be much like a shadow.
How much more graceful our shadows are...
I will just sit under my tall, refined shadow
behind a dream
and try to trace
the last erased marks of the father that was written in my book of life.
Written with a sharp pencil,
so forcefully
that the marks have made permanent prints on the feeble pages of my fable.
Look!
There’s a dim yellow light,
fire in the fire place
and a man wearing a gray sweater vest…
reading a book.
It smells like winter in the house…
familiar...
and my shadow breaks.
It all seems so unbelievably pointless.
I was damaged.
I wish I had waited for the door to be opened instead of breaking through it.
Now there is no way for me to keep the ghosts away.
Dec 16, 2011
She bought me muffins.
I was conditioned...
...till all the muffins tasted like dust.
She took my little hands and helped me up the broken stairs.
I sat there next to her,
beside a broken headstone.
The poem in which he predicted the day of his own death,
had barely survived...
like his memory...
almost completely scratched away by sharp nails of time...
I looked at her as she whispered with heart wrenching disappointment in her eyes
With parents who left her too soon...
A knock on the grave to wake the dead up.
She still believed that the nothing under piles of dirt can hear her pain.
I played and pranced and giggled around the godforsaken graveyard.
I was damaged...
He bought me candies.
I was conditioned...
...till all the candies tasted bitter.
No I can't feel safe,
but do you really blame me?
I'm the little girl who was never really held.
I grew up learning to hold and not be held.
But I,
grew up.
What helped me survive has become my poison.
There’s nothing glorious about surviving.
Reminds me of them,
resuscitating a man who was dead for years.
Broken ribs
and punctured lung
and the magic of life slipping through godly hands of doctors.
It's funny how they try to bring that pulse back
in spite of how better off you are not having it.
I never asked for a crippled emotion and a DOA soul.
Is it worth it?
Don't you ever wonder what, who, how you could be?
If you didn't have to spend all these days trying to see,
to feel,
to be,
this apparition that haunts your dreams?
I still keep seeing you sickly resting your fragile bones on an uncomfortable death bed.
It’s always there
as if it’s tattooed on my soul.
Like I remember the smell of your cologne on the last shirt you wore,
as I pressed it against my chest trying to absorb it into my heart...
and you still thought you'd survive.
I admire that lying, cheating, unbelievably brave heart of yours.
I really, REALLY do.
I learned that you should just pick a goddamn side
and stay on it.
But you didn’t.
You kept flying back and forth
Until I found out how it feels like
to be the ‘constant’,
only in the family pictures.
No one mourned me because no one noticed I was gone...
I woke up with a heavy heart today,
resuscitated,
again.
Looked out the window and was reminded of you;
bare trees show off their scrawny shoulders and make way with their skeletal fingers
for a pale blue sky.
Holding it high,
higher than I can reach for.
The pallid moon,
smells like winter.
It loosens up my senses,
as I inhale my submissive, meek soul back into my body
Seriously, I’m okay!
How dare you question my sincerity?
My muscles twitch,
and I open myself and a huge chunk of confusion swishes in.
The window fades into my skin,
and you flicker like a candle.
I bask in the wavering glow of your heart one last time,
and I fall into two halves.
A half where it’s morning
but the little soldiers in my veins can’t get out of bed!
And the other half of me falls into the shadows.
I feel like how God must be feeling;
Existing unnoticeably.
Like an evaporated presence,
in a summer noon,
running in an undercurrent in the city’s veins.
And life goes on,
with or without me...
or Him.
There’s no real amends you can make for ignoring me…us.
Your lack of faith in me must be anguishing enough for you.
I lack sophistication.
The clumsiness my body drags with it...
so heavy.
Weightless,
dark and cool.
I want to be much like a shadow.
How much more graceful our shadows are...
I will just sit under my tall, refined shadow
behind a dream
and try to trace
the last erased marks of the father that was written in my book of life.
Written with a sharp pencil,
so forcefully
that the marks have made permanent prints on the feeble pages of my fable.
Look!
There’s a dim yellow light,
fire in the fire place
and a man wearing a gray sweater vest…
reading a book.
It smells like winter in the house…
familiar...
and my shadow breaks.
It all seems so unbelievably pointless.
I was damaged.
I wish I had waited for the door to be opened instead of breaking through it.
Now there is no way for me to keep the ghosts away.
Dec 16, 2011
Copied from Multiply:
ReplyDeletesimphanee wrote on Dec 16, '11
Well Hello there!
I will look in tomorrow when I am rested. Was just unplugging and saw
you.
Peace and good vibes Dear NegiN
Val
snowleapord wrote on Dec 16, '11
Dearest Negin - such a bittersweet poem, filled with courage and pain, a wistful evocation of the damage we do to those we love, will we or nill we.
snowleapord wrote on Dec 16, '11
*Waves to Val* Hi dear.
simphanee wrote on Dec 16, '11
I am so deeply moved by this expression of a life, with words reaching like arms to my heart,
touching me NegiN, sharing depths of a journey so hard lived. You are an amazing word wizard, and I have
loved every written word from you.
I'd love to sip tea and taste the air with you, just being ourselves.
Thank you for this, it is quite remarkable.
Much respect,
Val
mysticmaze wrote on Dec 17, '11
Brilliant and deeply moving.... you amaze us dear girl!
emeraldmoon wrote on Dec 19, '11
Val, I hope that happens one day :) where do you live?! i gotta come visit you!
Thank you Jon. Every time i write i promise myself it would be the last piece i'm writing about this...but it seems like it's there to stay...thanks for reading it :)
(((NANCY))) thank you! have been thinking about you and James <3
simphanee wrote on Dec 23, '11
I'll be back here next week to chat wit cha! Much love to you Dear Heart~!!!!
simphanee wrote on Jan 6, edited on Jan 6
HELLO EmeraldMoon!! I have not had much time at computer so forgive me for not replying sooner...☺...
Again, I truly love reading you, and this is anoutstanding example of how well you express feelings, ideas, so another can
look at life from inside a true artist! You amaze me!
I live in Idaho, and wow, would LOVE a visit from you. I have a list of some on here that I would just love to meet, and who knows?
You would be so welcome, and we can talk in P M about that, and even perhaps exchange phone numbers to start if you like.
I will be back on here later today, have a friend from out of town visiting, then back to work tomorrow morn, so till I get a lap top to take with me, I have very few hours on here, but tis okay, I'm just grateful to connect with you this way, and others here who I adore and respect.
Hug yourself for me, and a very Happy New Year to YOU dear NegiN!!!