i knew what the consequence would be if i were to allow myself to admit the feelings that my heart was so eager to force my mind to accept. so i ignored and distracted. but i also kissed, and laughed, and touched, and yearned. i was foolish to think i could have the best of both worlds and still win the war. i knew i would lose one day, but i thought if i gave myself more time, more preparation, it would hurt a little less. again, i was foolish. the day of acceptance, when the battle was lost, the consequence followed almost immediately. it gave me no time to regret having a moment of weakness. it gave me no time to have even a sliver of hope that i might have been wrong, that it could have been me. if you've never felt the defeat of heartache, here's a little insight: you can't breathe for a moment, and when you finally catch your breath, your chest begins to feel an ache. your body runs hot, as if you suddenly have a fever of 102. nausea creeps in, and the last meal you ate threatens to come up and splatter all over your living room floor. the tears will be shed, there is no time limit on this. you'll cry in the shower, on your way to and from work, in bed before sleep overcomes you and you wake up with swollen eyes the next morning.

someone asked me if i would rather continue feeling everything as deeply as i do, or feel nothing at all. this is a difficult question to answer, as heartache never gets easier. each time hurts just the same as the last. but i will never regret,

i feel so deeply! i always will!

I am not a lesbian, she thought.

She knew she wasn't. She insisted to herself she wasn't. It was an honest denial, even though she worshipped and admired women--as a species unto themselves. She was proud to be one. Exalted. Enraptured by estrogenic brilliance.

She thought about women--what they do for the world. Women conceive and make new human beings! They are feminine, from their lactation and nurturing of our babies to their very anatomy--receptive. Held fast within the mothering of the bosom, one is safe. Welcomed by the exclusivity of the vagina, one is the chosen one.

Women give of themselves without hesitation. Put themselves second... then third, fourth...last... They offer what's left--of food, attention, and love--even when wanting, themselves. If God is love, it is woman who was made in His image.

Yes, she loved women. Yes, she loved being one.

She recognized what a woman brings to a relationship. She knew how a relationship is defined by a woman's contribution, input, and even insistence. She knew that should the biochemistry between men and women be deconstructed, hers stands alone as unique, counteracting all of the harm brought into the world by the wizardry--the necromantic alchemy--of men.

She knew women to be magical creatures, so there was never any need to search for unicorns.

She knew how women love. She knew women who love men. She knew women who love women. She knew women who love both. She knew women who love themselves. Thus, she knew what love is. And she knew who God is.

If God is love, there is no God without women, she thought.

When a woman dies, she surmised, there is a moth-eaten hole that remains, ruining the entire wardrobe shared with men.

She thought about her body. Her body as a woman. How a thigh brushing the other is not a mating call but a celebration of her temple. Her holy temple, she thought, and then she would laugh. She felt alive. She felt important--even crucial. She felt real. She felt the Earth rotate around her, even as the men fall off.

She had a clear vision of the world's men and women, perched on her pedestal, placed there by Divine Authority. She watches with women's eyes. She weeps with women's tears. She shouts with women's cries.

No, she thought, I am not a lesbian. But I sure do think about them a lot.

The world is on fire.

I look outward from my couch.

The world has been watching me burn too.

Overworked, under-appreciated.

Diagnosed with the same issue.

How do we solve it?

No idea.

First,

I'll sit here, and write this poem.

someone once said the in-between is that state of being awake, but still asleep

he talked about sleep, but i'm going deeper

because i think our lives are the true in-between

we're awake, but asleep, and we know this is a state we shouldn't keep

we don't want to wake up, just yet, we want to fall asleep deeper

no one wants to face the day, the horrors, we're stuck in our minds

live in daydreams, false hopes, old goals

dreaming about a future day, but staying in-between

je ne sais pas - my favourite phrase

모르겠어 - is there even a place

that is not in-between

but free of the nightmare called true life

fraught with tragedies and strife

waiting around every corner

ready to push out all those boulders

to smash and crash our fragile bones

to lash and strike with sticks and stones

in-between, is it what seems?

not the safest place, but the place for me

because the truth frightens me, the future appalls me

i hate what i see, i can't change what i see

if it's the in-between for me, there's nothing else my future can be

do you think i'm a princess

could i be a queen?

i scoffed at the child's dreams

now i sympathize with her screams

who wants to be queen?

she carries the weight of a world

from her bed, all tangled and curled

limbs mimicking a moth's wings furled

don't you love butterflies

catch some with me

i watch the reel in agony

see her walk the same road as me

becoming who she doesn't want to be

where is she who raced after butterflies

who agonized over the simplest goodbyes

who could stand by herself in every fight

which do you think is best:

living or dying - quite frankly i don't see the difference

hey, honey, neither do i - it's true

death is black but living ain't skies of blue

and i seriously haven't got a clue

just curl up and go to bed, that's what i do

you could try it, it might work for you too

but i really don't know what else either of us can do

can't live for dreams, can't live for me

is sleeping all you can think of as a solution for me?

...............................................................................

I finally put a name to it

You are my favourite room

I can roam the entire house

It's become a mansion

But in the end, I'll always return to you

I'll curl up in my favourite chair

I'll stare out the window

Violins will serenade, filling the air

And I'll sit there without a care

Watching the sky go from black to blue

You'll remind me not to demolish

Every other room outside this one

Remind me to keep trying

Buy some paint and decorations

Enough fairy lights to circle the world

Please, wrap my blanket around me

After I fall asleep here

You and I both know I will wake up

Tomorrow to my own room

And try to find my way back to you

There’s a song or a saying that says, “If you can’t be with the one you love, then love the one you’re with.”

In my opinion that’s a pretty crappy suggestion.

If you can’t be with the one you love, then love yourself enough to know you can do better. Why should the one you’re with receive second best or a half-ass kind of love?

No thanks… get to packing if that’s the case.

I thought it could be you and me

I was so certain it could be

I thought that we had chemistry

But there is no room for you, and me

We were so strong together

Thought it'd be a case of when, not whether

Thought we could stay connected forever

Now I know there's no future for us, together

Forgive me for my unbelief

There was so much from you I came to receive

But all of that acted just for me to be deceived

A future for us couldn't be...Sorry for my unbelief

Was everything always this dark?

Or did I just not notice this before?

The light that once led me had died, and I’ve gone astray

Just where am I?

I’ll always be here waiting, you know?

It’s not that I’m moving on, it’s you who is

I’ll always be rooted to this spot until you turn back

So, let's keep each other company, okay?

I’ve always wondered how it’ll feel like to move on

Is it filled with relief?

Sadness?

Frustration?

Guilt?

Who knows?

Today, again, I’m dreaming of that time and dwelling in memories

Old, old, old, memories

The times when we laughed brightly together

The times when we cried sorrowfully together

The times when I didn’t lose my way

But now everything is gone

So, who’s next?

Who will I cherish next?

Is it you? Or you? Or you?

Why can’t I just fall for someone who’ll stay with me forever?

Someone who won’t leave

Someone who’ll always be by my side

Someone who can help me stand up and walk beside them!

Someone who won’t let me be lonely…

Is there anyone out there like that?

#poem #poems

Every new verse

must find it path.

It light must shine

through

the tiniest cracks

of my life.

I might be

the one

putting the letters

in a system.

My password

are attached

to the writing

page.

It’s you

that keeps the

bulb on

so I can see

the keyboard.

It’s you that

appears

in my dream

when my

life flows

with the wind.

You are the

prose...