SuziCate's Musings

Posts tagged ‘pain’

Warning

 

 

Wails pierce the darkness,

ripping slumber from the streets.

Like a kite tail flipping in the wind

moans trail flashing lights down the boulevard,

leaving a trace of tears and the hint of death.

People go about their business while

Mother rocks the crying child.

The weary rest, but they never sleep.

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The Ugly Truth

You swallow the words

They stick like cardboard in your throat

and settle like stinging nettle in your stomach

You replay them over and over

until you feel like a crumpled receipt,

not of use anymore and too late to exchange

Hugs don’t erase words

and words don’t ease the pain

You move through your days like

an inch worm measuring your time

and spend your nights pointing fingers at yourself,

knowing you will never be the same

Everything you once knew has vanished

and you wonder if it was really an illusion

Hold onto the flicker of hope within your soul

and look for the meaning beneath your pain;

the tenderness may sprout a new leaf

as time has a way of smoothing wrinkles

and pressing us into our lives

Arguments

Our mangled feathers drift in the wind

While we bury our ghosts beneath the sand

Wisps of passion continue to twist and bend

We can’t control what we don’t understand

For there will be more wounds we can not tend

These actions we take have not been planned

Words escape lips a bit too late and hearts rend

And still we both remain in no man’s land

The Now

You smile and go

about your day

while no one knows.

Fear puffs you

into a parachute that never lands

because love sends you searching

for answers you can’t understand.

Such a fine line between life and death,

yet here you are…trusting.

Tears reside below your eyes

and dance across your soul.

Pain sits on your stomach,

hard and lumpy,

like a bowl of oatmeal

turned cold.

Heavy and wasted,

you measure yourself out again.

 

Pain

Words, too late to retrieve,

Take up permanent residence

Ink stain upon the heart

Like a pen explosion

In a front shirt pocket

Seeping fluid black

Permeating the thickness

Until it splatters skin

Leaving it’s mark

A tattoo on the soul

Holding On And Holding It In

Peasant Woman Seated (Half-Figure) – Van Gogh

A look of disdain

Smeared across her face

As if the narrows of trust

Had skinned her living soul

Was she used or abused

Tired, weary, or just plain sad

Lips stretched in pain

Will she ever speak her case

Or do as in that day she must

Was she simply hungry or cold

A woman worn and torn

Letting go the dreams she had

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