Category Archives: Poetry

In my mind

He lives in my mind, the pain lives here too.
Every good and bad memory, every soft touch and every harsh word.
He lives within time, still and fluid, clear and  . . . not so clear.
He makes me cry, he makes me sigh, he makes me dream.
Dreams that turn into nightmares.
He lives in my waking time, he lives in my sleep, he lives in the empty space next to me.
He is trapped in my mind and I am trapped here too.

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

 

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Fantasies

Dream of my dreams, if only you could come true,

But what battlefield would life be if that was true?

If happiness was real, if at peace were my heart?

No manner of life would that be, unknown to me,

Always searching, never finding,

Contentment is what I find,

And never the happiness I seek.

The journey would have no purpose if happines was within my grasp,

What else is there to live for than the journey?

To be free of me

What emptiness the end of love brings,

After the pain, although it was much less than expected,

The hours upon hours of leisure thinking when all the love is done,

There is no thinking of him, there is no missing him, there is no him,

Try as I may to think of him I cannot,

I cannot any more than to think I am not thinking of him,

Nothing more.

Nothing more to do, nothing more to miss, nothing more to suffer,

I am not with him, nor waiting to be with him, nor have I just been with him,

There is no more him,

Now whole days are open to me, what to do with my time?

I have no need to wait for his text, there will be none,

I am liberated from the wait and it is surpringsly pleasant,

I do love him and I am free of him,

A prison I created with my love for him,

I created it and closed myself in it,

A prision? Yes, but I was willing,

Willing, not now. 

I don’t feel the loss, maybe layer,

Later I will cry or throw myself of a cliff,

Although there are no cliffs here,

What to do until then?

Until the emptiness kills me,

While I live my life in the pleasant emptiness of his absence?

To love him and  . . . Be in happiness without him,

Seems a betrayal,

To him most of all,

To love him and not to miss him,

To love him and not want him,

To love him and be free of him,

To love him and let him be free of me.

Change

Around and around in my own head I go.

Wandering of wanderings.

Sometimes I see it so clearly, it’s so obvious.

Sometimes I clearly see I don’t see it.

What is it about him? What is it about me?

What is is it in this world?

Confusion and pain, in this I live.

In peace and death I wish to be.

In tears I drown, yet none I allow.

Because I know to not, not believe, yet endure.

Endure the reality of  . . . I don’t know what. I only know what not.

What is not, what it won’t. Be.

Be. It’s all I am. I am me.

I am me and I wander and I wonder and I ask.

No answer.

Never. No. Not. Always.

Always the same that it is not.

I know. I know. I even know why. But nothing will change.

I will change.

I need to change.

Strong

I can do it. I can get through this. I have done it before and it was worst.

I can do it. I am strong. It was death before and I am alive.

I can do it. I am a woman. I am a survivor of many things, of this too.

I  can do it.