“Time hates love”

poem of the day

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hour-carol-ann

Once a Home.

a poem.

a breakup leads to a broken home.

where the hurt resides and survives

not matter how hard you try to leave it behind.

I just find it difficult to say goodbye.

 

I know this is the time.

To switch off the lights in the house we once kept alive.

I was the only one still paying for the light.

while you were standing outside,

busy admiring the house on the other side.

No matter how hard you try,

to keep food in the fridge,

the house clean and warm,

the garden full of life.

You can’t stop the power going off,

the food reaching its best before date,

the house collecting cobwebs,

the garden slowing deteriorating.

You can’t stop the love from dying,

even if the love is still there, hiding, inside.

 

I want to destroy the house we built.

Rip it apart, brick by fucking brick.

Set it on fire and watch everything I love and hate burn.

But I decided.

To let the house stand until it falls.

To let the paint strip itself,

to let the cabinets get all dusty.

The house is too valuable to destroy.

I still want to walk around sometimes and reminisce about the good times.

 

But at the end of the day,

I’ll pick up my bag,

put on my hat,

walk away with my head held high, and a smile on my face.

Knowing that one day,

I’ll stop visiting

and never open that door again.

 

Horror Stories

a poem.

Was always so blind.

I didn’t comprehend…I didn’t see

That all I wanted and needed was right in front of me.

Waving, smiling, laughing, shouting , running, reaching

Fingertips nearly touching,

Hearts nearly close enough to perform a synchronise beat.

But eyes looking past,

Eyes wide,

Eyes blind,

All the things I couldn’t see.

I let them just walk right past while I focused on only me,

My dreams,

My aspirations,

Scared.

I can read you horror stories about being scared.

I can swim oceans,

jump off cliffs,

run for miles,

and it still wouldn’t be enough to tell you about the magnitude of fear.

Scared is when you realise your dad has left and your all alone

Scared is the crazy heart wrenching fear of the dark

All the things you don’t want to see, manifest and show themselves in the dark

Scared is blaming everyone but yourself

Scared is letting life pass you by

Scared is severing sacred connections.

Scared is almost saying ‘I do’

Scared is almost crying

Scared is almost showing emotion

Scared is almost saying ‘I like you too’

Scared is never moving

It’s never ending

It’s forever blind.

It’s forever losing.

It’s forever alone.

Writers Disease.

a poem.

recently I lost the will to write.

the words that once flowed like water,

no longer seem to flow from my mind.

I contemplated,

maybe this is the last ever time,

that I will be able to paint beautiful pictures with the words I write.

Is this disease curable, doctor?

Is there anyway to save me?

I feel like I’m going insane,

The words I try to write no longer translate,

my mind a black abyss the words just cant seem to escape

is there anyway to take this pain away?

I remember people asking why I write

In response I wrote a sea full of poems and stories

eyes blazing, pen scratching,

now I can no longer answer that question.

Why didn’t anyone tell me doctor?

this disease is more than my pen being unable to hit the paper

its more than my mind drawing up blanks

its more than the burning desire to rip every piece of paper to shreds

its being stuck in limbo,

its being stripped, naked with no where to hide,

help me. help me. help me.

why wont you help me?

you told me it would only last a week and now its a year and I still can’t seem to move this block.

I can’t seem destroy this block

this mental block

this disease.

I screamed. I screamed. I screamed.

and all he had to say to me and all he ever said was,

time.