Today is new
Silent dreams held. The misty morning begs for my eyes to view. The serenity.
Holding onto myself I give a hug. Push myself up and reach for the blinds. A wet morning. No wind. Nothing that absorbs itself but the lush greens settled nearby. The laughter I hold inside.
Reaching the mirror I laugh even harder. My hair. Oh what a mess. I beg myself not to look back at memories, just keep going forward. Keep looking for the poems to push me.
I admitted so much yesterday in poems. To never want to be underfoot again. I blocked out so many people. I ached to tell what I felt but know that they will never understand my words.
So I kept writing. I kept seeking the release. I finally got it. I finally felt that I was going to get better. Then today happens.
I sigh. I know I will make it. I always do.
Yet I know I still hurt. I understand that the pain becomes a dull ache and then nothing, through time. And though I explained myself through these words, I don't ask for anything more. Just the capabilities of saying what is on my mind, in my heart and digging into my spirit.
I am grateful. Even though you will never know that. Always the pain.
Yet I won't invade on life. I won't even look into it anything. I will just feel my wind. Bring myself to where I need to be. I can't expect you to ever get who I was.
For that would mean you had to care deeply. I can't imagine that was something you did. No. No for I was already too crazy. Labelled. Stamped and scarred.
Today.
Washing. Settling into routine. Praying. Meditating.
Not yet is my temperature down but I can't sit by and have emotions in the dark. I must pick up and go. Moving into the world to forget. I know you have already. My words don't stick.
So I begin.
Today is new.
Holding onto myself I give a hug. Push myself up and reach for the blinds. A wet morning. No wind. Nothing that absorbs itself but the lush greens settled nearby. The laughter I hold inside.
Reaching the mirror I laugh even harder. My hair. Oh what a mess. I beg myself not to look back at memories, just keep going forward. Keep looking for the poems to push me.
I admitted so much yesterday in poems. To never want to be underfoot again. I blocked out so many people. I ached to tell what I felt but know that they will never understand my words.
So I kept writing. I kept seeking the release. I finally got it. I finally felt that I was going to get better. Then today happens.
I sigh. I know I will make it. I always do.
Yet I know I still hurt. I understand that the pain becomes a dull ache and then nothing, through time. And though I explained myself through these words, I don't ask for anything more. Just the capabilities of saying what is on my mind, in my heart and digging into my spirit.
I am grateful. Even though you will never know that. Always the pain.
Yet I won't invade on life. I won't even look into it anything. I will just feel my wind. Bring myself to where I need to be. I can't expect you to ever get who I was.
For that would mean you had to care deeply. I can't imagine that was something you did. No. No for I was already too crazy. Labelled. Stamped and scarred.
Today.
Washing. Settling into routine. Praying. Meditating.
Not yet is my temperature down but I can't sit by and have emotions in the dark. I must pick up and go. Moving into the world to forget. I know you have already. My words don't stick.
So I begin.
Today is new.
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