Promise 10: Exist

Desperation is not something I wear on my sleeve.
What I want is to truly be loved, not lost.
And I, having given you my few choice years
the very few that I have to give to another person,
Perhaps made a grave error in trusting myself.

My desparation is not one borne of a need to find just anyone;
It’s the fear of making a mistake and I feel you were my greatest,
But I will not pretend, not even for a minute, that what we had
or rather, what we worked towards was anything free from flaw.

I hate to feel that way towards someone
whom I’ve grown to love so dearly.
When someone who knows I exist
tries to treat me like something that does not,
It sickens me. I’m hopeless for getting so close
And offering things I can’t possibly give.
It gets to a tipping point where I want to get closer,
But I will end up hurting both of us.

But it is not time to say such things.
You had to have earned this sentiment,
As I once had to in order to earn the privilege of doing so.
I wished to learn more about you and I reserve the right
To be careful of you as you have the right to be careful of me,
but it can’t hurt to at least be kind now, isn’t that so?

If only…

I still went through with it that despite that fact.
And I gave a piece of my heart for you to do with as you please,
And though that piece could bend and waver,
and my heart was kept from harms way.
My solemn hope was that you would make my heart whole again

But that piece has never returned,
It remained with you,
Never to be seen again.

What kind of life would I lead if I just wanted
to stay in such a safe distance away from it all.
where no one truly knows anything about me

                                                no one can destroy me,
Where :                              no one can doubt me.
                                    no one can prove
                              non-existence,

I never wanted to hurt anyone and I never wanted to, but-
I never would have dreamed I would ever get this close,
that I would ever get so close to wanting to destroy it all.

 

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Anaesthetic 5: Fishing for Platitudes

Tell me something new, anything really.
Tell me that I suck when it’s my fault,
I don’t want those good words when bad hits.
Just because nobody’s perfect doesn’t mean we can’t try.

“I’m really not okay,
and neither are you.”

Those kinds of answers will be met with a fake grin
I’m a bad liar, but I’m a far cry from pathological.
In truth, if I keep being lied to, I’ll never learn my lesson.
And all these things being said will drown out anything useful.
 
“You don’t want things to be awkward?
Sorry, but that’s what you asked for.”

You thought we had something, but that was never the truth.
And so, you make excuses about how it will never be;
When all I wanted was simplicity and all I get is duplicity
Because, clearly, a simple reason is too complicated to have,

“You never even bothered to learn about all the bad
and if I were anyone else, things could be much worse.”

If being called too nice is code for me not to care
And being stepped all over is how I move forward
Then fish in the sea are worthless without a boat
I guess I’m stuck up the Amazon without a prayer.

It sucks when I don’t learn anything new,
And I become complacent when I just want to know

All the things I suck at for my own betterment,

And yet,
People still think I’m fishing just for the fun of it.

 

Anaesthetic 4: Still Life

It’s really not fair.
A still life photograph just gets to be.
Nothing moves, and yet it gets to feel alive.
A great photo. One that lives beyond its scene,
But the photo of this sad woman is inert.
She has to keep her lethargic expression
Forever, an entire lifetime in the same place.
She festers in her unhappiness for all eternity.
I wonder if she had the capacity to feel content
With not having to ever be taunted by happiness;
Feelings that are so fleeting and so out of reach.
How lucky is she to not be tempted by such folly
I don’t get to move on.
The finality of still life was enviable.
The subjects were nudged, just so, into the right position.
Instead, I was stuck in an infinite loop, a living nightmare,
Like that moment of time was paused, rewound, and played,
Over and over; slides were shown until each cell deteriorates.
I can’t just forget about it.
It melts into the frames and that moment of time
Burns into my cheeks, the searing wetness of droplets,
The hot sorrowful stream flows from my eyes
Burns in more still than any photograph in my mind
And becomes more vivid and real than any memory.
 Acting as though nothing ever happened.
I can’t look you into the eyes as I once did.
I don’t get to feel the sudden rush of joy as I had before
And you were the thief that robbed that pleasure from me,
But where your eyes are, I don’t get to see a face any longer.
All I can see is everything that was, everything that used to be
My vision fades as I drift in and out of that time and place
As my mind constantly plays my heartbreak on repeat.
No closure.
I don’t want anything from you, ever,
What I truly want is to never want anymore.
What I never want is what I still have.
To have that moment erased forever
So I can go back to looking at faces like faces
and start thinking about the past as the past
and I can finally leave then back then.
I want to live now like it’s now
I want to breathe my breaths
and I want to cry my cries
and sob for the present
Then collapse inward
And avoid contact
With you
But…

Memory betrays
There’s never enough in frame
Life is not still life.

Thanks to Kayla for the awesome header photo!

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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,
~Mari

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
-plop…
          (and…)
…drop-
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.