Momentary

I momentarily forget the pain my heart is in. How that is possible, I don't know. My tired mind not only forgot why I was sad, but when I remembered, was still not sad in the same sense. Not only was my mind affected by this momentary lapse in attention, but my whole being, my whole body, felt different. The weight that had been on me was gone, though only until I finally lied down in bed. My tired body relaxed after an exhausting night of stressfulness. And as the exhaustion seeped out of my body merely through the relaxation of my muscles, the heaviness seeped back into my bones, ready to destroy me for another day. I remembered what was so sad, even if I couldn't quite feel it yet. My body could feel it even when my heart and mind couldn't. But the heaviness is more than merely a weight on my body, but also on my soul. A connection I made long ago has been severed, by no desire of mine. It's not the same as breaking up or drifting away. That being is no longer here at all. That entity no longer exists. I feel his absence more strongly that I have ever felt anything in my life. I have missed him before while away, but nothing like this. This is the weight of not only a knowledge of his complete and total absence, but a deep understanding of it, a feeling you can't shake, a heaviness ever present with you even when you are thinking of or doing something completely unrelated. It only left momentarily because of my exhaustion. The weight may continue to lift at intervals as time goes on, but it will never truly leave me. I can never be the same person as I used to be, because I will never have him again, and who I was was who I was with him. Now I will be who I am without him. I just don't know who that is yet.

Eyes

The eyes terrify me. Those chasms of blackness staring back at me. I think I see evil behind them. I see an ugly human being with an ugly mind. I see the sorrow and the anger held behind the eyes, dying to be seen, desperate to come forth. Terror forces me to turn, to look away, to avoid the glances despite the desire to stare. There is no immediate resolution. I simply must forget the eyes when I am not looking at them. Until again, I see those eyes. I have seen them countless times between, but I notice them once more. They are at once fear-inducing and calming. I look more closely, and I realize that the eyes make more sense now. They are matched by a sorrowful face. No fake smile accompanies the doleful eyes. Not evil; out of place. Out of context it is unsettling, this sadness. But when confronted with the undeniable truth of the eyes and the mind behind the eyes, they seem at last in place, if not unwanted. The willingness to acknowledge a feeling can allow for acceptance of the symptoms, understanding of the consequences of emotion. It is difficult to accept the actions of others, not to mention the catalysts within the others' brains. It is even more difficult to accept our own actions, our own anger, our own lack of rationality. The eyes terrify me because if I want to see them, they must see me, piercing into my very soul, seeming to perceive something I cannot, their pupils following mine in the mirror, never relenting, yet never unveiling what secrets they have uncovered.

[An Imagination Growing Cold]

An imagination growing cold,

Possessing no dream or lasting hope.

I have fallen for a deeper trope:

New words proclaiming meanings old.

Imagination believed the claim,

Embellishing where falling short,

Yet never dreaming it of the sort

Of which to say, "It came

And went; no lasting dreams,

A fading hope already spent."

A feeling borrowed, or rather, lent:

The price, my heart torn at the seams.

Destroyed by words designed to rend;

The power of syllables deeply felt:

To lock a heart or defenses melt.

Some phrases spoken are hard to mend.

I search still deeper in my heart

And find I still cannot believe

The words that pierce my heart and cleave

That beating organ part from part.

I will not say, "It came and went;

No lasting dream, a fading hope,

No meaning beyond a simple trope."

I will not say, "Already spent."

Dreams growing cold: a dying ember

Ignites my soul; it lights my mind;

It forces me to look behind.

It tells me softly to remember.

1/14

Poem

Written for the dreams of the dead and dying
Deceived by those who are always lying
Their tongues drip with deception
Bitter cold is their reception
Some, desperate for love, think to find it here
I cannot find love in hatred-filled sneers
Oh, God, come cleanse me from the evil beside me
Rip out the fingers around the heart inside me
They are hopeful that they can claim me for their own
Unfortunately for them, I am not alone
I am far beyond their touch
They cannot count me as such:
I am no longer under their false power
You fill me more with Yours every passing hour
I do not seek from them love I do not need
I have what I want and I pay them no heed
I cannot be counted among the dead
Despite any whispered words they have said
Neither am I the one who is dying
It is merely them practicing lying
But some are deceived, some are dying and they are dead
It is for any hope they have, these words I have said
I know there is hope because my soul is saved
And I hope with this hope, the Way I have paved

[I had a dream that you were dead]

I had a dream that you were dead

There lying still upon your bed

And in this dream I shed no tears

Though it culminated all my fears

I looked upon your pallid face

And saw in it not the slightest trace

Of the life that once had filled your eyes

Yet still from me issued forth no cries

I left with much dissatisfaction

As though disturbed by our transaction

The knowledge had not yet reached my soul

Your death had yet to take its toll

Days passed by, weeks, months, and years

I lived my life without thought of tears

For thus affected was my heart

Through tears of loss did not fall apart

On thoughts of you it did subsist

Though felt as though should not exist

My soul, my being, died that day

With your body was taken away

I shed no tears at your departure

Nor did my heart feel any torture

For when the life had left your heart

Mine felt it wise to soon depart

For though I lived, was not alive

Your heart had died and with it mine

I woke to find it all a dream

As real as life though it had seemed

And even though I realized

I rent the air with many cries

For should my nightmare e’er come true

I knew my heart would die with you