The Hardest Thing Is Feeling You Everywhere.

The hardest thing is feeling you everywhere.

I see your reflection in my morning coffee,

I feel your warmth in the summer breeze,

I hear your whispers in my favourite songs,

But I still can’t find you.

Mercilessly, I throw daggers at everyone around me,

I carve my “confidence” into my surroundings

And cut anyone that ever doubted me.

Carelessly, my sharp tongue slices wounds into others,

Until my blade is used so frequently it dulls

And you can’t tell the difference between it

And a bitter breeze.

But my own sharp tongue cuts my mouth,

And I choke on my words until my throat bleeds,

My wounds never heal and they keep getting deeper,

Until I can hardly feel anything.

No matter how hard I try to stop,

I lose every battle against myself

And my relentless words will continue to cut,

Until none of my “self” remains.

I was wondering why you two began to effortlessly blend,

You both seemed to constantly go hand in hand,

It troubled me for weeks,

Was there something wrong with me

That forbade me from entering your sacred ring?

Then it all came to fruition,

An epiphany at midnight, as sweet and natural as birds first flight;

The toxic group together with incredible might,

What better way for you to wallow in self-pity,

Than to gather in small numbers and complain about how you’re living?

So I’ve decided that I won’t let it trouble me any longer,

And for that I believe I am much stronger.

“These two events can occur simultaneously. Being happy with what you have and who you are whilst wanting to improve upon your life and yourself. You’re allowed to be content and discontent, satisfied and unsatisfied, appreciative and longing. It may seem contradictory, but it’s not. You have to know what you currently have to know what you want. And if you don’t value what you have now, you’ll never value what you gain.”

-Happy New Year

- I hardly recognised you.

Was it really you? The one I was convinced that I’d lost all those years ago? Your lustrous black hair ran down your shoulders and tickled your biceps. That skin; so soft and pure that whilst your skin lay so smooth, your jaw was prominent and sharp - like you were. “This is almost déjà vu” I chuckled to myself. Ten years ago, I stood right here. Miserable. Miserable that you’d left me. When you left me, my whole world turned upside down - like my smile. The smile which previously illuminated my face had now done what you did best; left me when I needed it most. This feeling was all to familiar so it had to be you. Despite my irrefutable thoughts, one question still circled my mind like current in a circuit. Was it really you?

Persephone

Don’t look for me.

For I am buried under the sand that you deposited in the bottomless sea,

I suffocate everyday but I can’t scream whilst you’re not listening,

I’m trapped in the time that you created and when I think I can breathe, the air is forced out of me.

I could reach out my withering hand and have you pull me from the dark,

But I’d rather claw my way through the hot pit to which I have been cursed,

I’ll choke, blinded as I fight my way upward, forcing your prison away,

Instead of accepting your hand, as you planned me to do, tying me to your eternal winter,

When I could be greeted by Spring if I only rely on me.

So, don’t look for me.

For I’ll be gone by the time your boredom forces you to wonder,

All that will be left is a whisper by the shore,

But when you realise the mistakes you made, saturated with your unquenchable hate

I’ll be floating with the clouds on the warm Spring air,

And I’ll be so big and so far away that I’m untouchable,

And when you look at me from the sand below, all you might receive from me is a brief hello.

So please, don’t look for me.

I’ll make it on my own.