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Wednesday, August 31, 2011

Monday Torture

It hurts,
so severe that I want to vomit.
It stings,
so relentless that I want to cry.
I'm blinking,
hoping to flicker away the tears. 
My hands clamp down against my ears.
So compressed I can explode.
The sleeves of my shirt are smothered with ash from my burnt heart. 
Understandment is in my nature.
Accepting this sands my throat. 
I'm confused by the truth you speak and the desire I seek. 
It's eating me.
Everytime I bring it up,
it falls into the cruel ends of rejection. 
I just want to talk.
I want to experiance the beauty of communicating with my Love. 
Just like the couples that pass me by everyday. 
I envy everyone. 
Dear God,
Please don't let anyone see me like this. 
I think I'm senseless for crying over something so minor.
Burning with confusion, rejection, and desires. 
The poem written,
entirely dedicated to one,
now lays flat on the floor,
left unrecited.
Love sure is a fierce mistress. 
I feel so heart broken.
So deliberately crushed.

1 comment:

  1. This is one of the most amazing things you've ever written Shula, very raw and honest. Powerful. I just hope you're okay.


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