I am sitting on a bus

I AM SITTING ON A BUS

And how a moments beauty can berate your estranged
opinions of the world, yet she still was unsure of
life’s true purpose.
What? But a few presumably poetic words scratched
across a tattered piece of lined paper?
Why words? as they cause more harm than good.
If weren’t I but THIS person what would I be?
A dancer? An artist? Would my music sound as sweet?
But no, the world has no room for me as I cannot
conform to it’s idealistic views of normalcy.
I have embraced the invisibility that I have created
for myself to hide behind, for were I to step out from
behind it…So buy yet another black piece of
clothing and minimize these eyes with the chemical
lines I place upon them.
How but a steady stream of words does thought become
consciousness?
One question of the world forever
changes those encompassed within it.

Steps of Grace

I watched as the rain fell heavily around me before I felt the icy prickled blasts on my pale skin. My mind billions of miles away from where my feet stand firmly planted. For a fleeting moment I am reminded of yoga in the rain, back to the earth and beautiful.

Back when my heart was brave enough to seek bliss, I am haunted and tormented. Engulfed in seclusion…my only answer, steps of grace riddled with grief. No longer listening to my heart I carry on, a shell of my former self, the strength I once carried…is fading…

See the fire blowing in my eyes higher and higher, a dream of standing on my own is bitter sweet. Songs played louder and louder in an attempt to drown out your voice in my head…I stare unknowingly off into reverie…

These walls screaming for a conformity that I can not achieve .. a sickness in my heart beats out the story of my life… and I lie awake in the night after night…a constant reminder of my abnormality…

She Existed

She was strong enough to walk away as he held shards of her shattered heart in his hands…

Her large hazel green tinted eyes that once shone with light give away her darkest inner turmoil…
yet she tells them nothing…

The painted smile is their only focus not wanting to know how one person could have so much pain encompassed inside them… Like a broken guitar string torn lose from what makes her sing… what makes her live…

Just barely alive she’s trapped… among the masses… trapped inside a hell she can not escape…

She doesn’t need you to know her…she doesn’t want to admit to you how much she craves your presence to keep her going…

Dancing round and round …over and over…keeping her body moving as not to think…just to be… Lost and hiding…she once existed…

As if she could forget

Sometimes she lies awake and thinks about her life, about the one cold night that she lost all sense of ownership over “her own body”. In the dark she remembers hearing the blood curdling screams as they poured out of her but seemed far away, as if they belonged to someone else… The sound so crystal clear in her head is still sends chills up her spine almost a year later. She remembers searing pain both in her body and in her heart and how for weeks after she bled and shook uncontrollably- but nobody noticed. She remembers not being able to fight or will herself to move almost at all; more from fear than the pain which riddled through her. Remembering his calm face, voice and demeanor shrugging the whole thing off as her fault makes her want to be violently sick. She remembers running and running and running, as fast and as far as she could until she could go no farther less her lungs explode. She remembers being too afraid to leave her house, and the shame of the secret never to be washed off. She remembers the nightmares that never seem to disappear and give way to many sleepless nights. She knows how stupid it is of her to remember all of this and to think of it at all, but she remembers EVERYTHING! … As if she could ever forget.

Thinking About You

Rain on the window sill
flashes light my path
missing you with every breath
my heart beating in my chest
people standing in the road
not really looking
never seeing me
I dance in the night
Invisible

Surreal

Sometimes I feel as if I am screaming at the top of my lungs and yet no sound emerges…I fear that if I stop screaming I will disappear completely. Soon I stop to wonder if maybe I am screaming loud and clear but no one is listening enough to hear me. I think about the words I am writing and wonder if they sound like the stereotypical “I sit and stare at these four walls” and so I try to feign lightheartedness but it doesn’t sound real . It amazes me what one can say in this little box that no one will ever give a second thought to… A lie, a question, maybe a confession. “She hates that she loves the feeling of the cold metal on her skin and the feeling of relief overwhelms the shame of the blood she hides.”
It doesn’t matter until she can’t hide the marks, can’t hide the scars, can’t stop the bleeding… No one can see it. No one needs to know the truth, that feeling inside of her that she can’t seem to control – can’t seem to cut out. No one needs to know anything but what they see, the smile, her laughter… a strength that radiates from overly large hazel green tint eyes. Surreal.
*This is a post transfered from an old blog that I kind of liked*

In Bloom

In Bloom

In light
Beauty exposed
A shining in hazel eyes
Constant movement in an effort to keep warm

A touch
The sharp intake of breath
Soft smiles of a shared secret
A rise of passion
Wonder

Connection without words
Fear of the unknown
Time flies by
A sense of peace
At ease hand in hand
Simplicity

This is a poem from a small collection I am secretly working on.

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