Semblance 9: Unconditional

I am crying, but the tears I shed are not my own.
My flesh cut open, but my blood is not bled.
The song I sing, its words I’ve never spoken
And yet the feeling evokes that of another’s anguish.

The weight I carry, is but baggage for two.
I apologize for mistakes that aren’t mine,
And all I can do is lend my eyes and ears.
I hope that is enough, I can only offer you time.

But to carry the burden of another can’t be sustained.
This I know, and I’m regretful that no more can be done.
Empathy, in its own capacity, is burdensome to its holder,
And the unconditional love will soon drive us apart.

I’ve always said it would never be too much.
I said in good faith that I would still remain.
Can one love too much? I fear the worst of it,
But too much love remains when all else fades.

I am different now, from sharing the pain between us.
I am strong. I face problems with the strength of two,
And although we are no longer dependent on each other,
I look forward to you seeing the woman that I’ve become.

I’ve been sitting on this poem for a while until I felt like it was time to close the books on the first series of poems. While it certainly isn’t my strongest work in the set, I thought it would be fitting that my subject would eventually grow and develop into a wonderful human being. A lot has happened, and I’ve learned so much, about myself and about my writing. I am certainly a lot happier and more fulfilled than before despite a lot of sadness and distress. But I can’t forget a lot of good has happened as well. And I hope to continue improving myself and learning. Thanks for sticking with me throughout. More on the way!

Shout out to all those who’ve helped me along the way

Kayla, Vi, Audra, Apro, Toom, Kaz, Brian, the rest of chat, and of course, my readers!

With love,


Anaesthetic 3: Direction

From here, I know it’s downhill. It gets worse, I’m sure.
I am afraid, the frayed strands fail to come together
A loose collection of things that can or will go wrong,
They go every which way, not once are they orderly.
Things don’t fall into place,
                                     they tip.
                       they lean,
          before they
It will happen in the worst way, and at the worst time.
And even when I try to be careful, it never works out,
When all I need is a little right and things just go left.
Left behind,
Left unsaid.
Left forgotten.
                         Never at the Right time,
                         Nor in the Right way,
                         Never a “Right away!”
Right, so I write away, to get far away.
farther in any direction from where I am.
Spend all day thinking tomorrow is Monday
When today’s Saturday and I, in any way,
just want to get a day to get away from here.
And I still won’t know where the hell I’m going.
Because I just want things to start looking up,
But even if we take it back to the top
We just continue the same cycle again
Our eyes stuck in the same descent until…
Here we are, at the end, looking down.

Anaesthetic 2: Nocturne

The days I can’t find. I’ve looked;
I cannot see beyond the pillow.
I’ve tried and tried, but in my dreams
Are my dreams; My aspirations are of sleep.
During the day fall is my night rise,
Wakefulness is my fight, my solemn right,
and my struggle, what trouble.
The musings of malcontent
Infesting my consciousness
Like the nightcrawlers writhe.
Beneath my feet, the centipedes,
And all other things that impede
hide under the folds, nooks and crannies
of the darkest parts of my being.
Above me, the moths breed
In my fleeting thoughts of recluse.
Within my eyelids, I find refuge
 And my only respite is when
The day stays away and my night stays night.

Promise 9: Blank

Illuminated by a blank white screen
my reflection. The void staring back at me.
I see the lines on the display, like needles.
that prick my skin, I bleed not blood, but tears.

From my eyes, I scrape the disbelief away.
My heart in blank and my few thoughts,
fraught with frustration, my mind in blank.

As vacant as the bright white screen,
Blank as the sheet I wrote this poem on,
and about as painless as the clean slice
of the paper through and in between my fingers.

One look at my hands and I feel my index finger well up
with anticipation as I pinch the sides. Nothing.
A bloody disappointment, Not even a droplet.
It’s my writing hand that steadily holds the pen.
It remains frozen in place, with nothing to say.

Blank are my thoughts as I read the lines unwritten,
that would send all my happy thoughts to ruination.
Blank as the time before and blank as it was after it happened.
As void and empty as I wish it was after it was said and done.

I wish it could have been that blank like it was before.
and I could pretend that it never happened at all. Forget.
I could carry my vacuous smile when everything was so simple.

I wish to be so blissfully ignorant,
but now I try only to think of blank
Because blank is all I want to think of you.

Anaesthetic 1: Red Lipstick

7/31/17 11:34 PM

Put on some lipstick,
The kind that real women pick.
Now take it off, it makes me sick.
It has to be red. Nothing else.
What’s that on your face?
Have I told you what I think?
You’re more beautiful without make-up
but your lipstick, should be red.
Don’t ever look down, Don’t frown
You should always have your chin held high.
Why? You’re not allowed to be sad because you should smile
and those smiling lips of yours have to be red.
That dress of yours is quite revealing,
You really should wear a shirt over it.
I don’t want them to look at you like that.
But open up the front a bit to show off your chest;
I don’t want you to attract too much attention
and I don’t want them looking at your red lips.
8/1/17 5:52 PM

I put on black lipstick when you tell me when I should wear red.
And the next time I wear red for you, my lips will drip red.
Red from the lipstick and red from the spit blood splatter,
Bit and bled, solemnly read from my bleeding red lips.

Promise 8: Fragile

If I make both outcomes,
Either of which are inevitable
Make both a win-win situation
Then I nullify any heartbreak.

But what is more depressing
Than love with neither hope
Nor confidence that the fire
With its fragile ego unguarded
Could ever hope to make jealous
The passion that once bubbled within?

Effervescent infatuated bumblings
That boiled over in froths and spills
That overcame wills and various chills
And I on the receiving end thought
For once I wasn’t foolish enough to think
I would ever make it this far to finding
Myself with another soul in this world.


Misc 5: Bits

With All the little pieces of you, Kay,
and still mention all else good would lessen,
I cherish more than glad mice feast away
On the breadcrumbs that fall from the heavens.
And from the depths of friend starvation pull,
When piteous remarks would sink below
It likewise nourishes my spirit full
Of all compassion of yours can bestow.
I won’t forget your friendship, I’ll admit,
So please accept, ’cause I love you to bits!

I disappeared for a little bit. I’ll be back next Tuesday with more Promises. Working on stuff for the next set too! Take care y’all.