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Literature Text
The tears swell and overflow
the realization is too much.
I finally give in to the pain felt
with each pulse of truth coursing through me.
I love her.
And suddenly my words run dry.
Held tight for so long
wrestling with doubt as powerful as sin
and confused by the trickery I've played on myself
--
~2008/2009
the realization is too much.
I finally give in to the pain felt
with each pulse of truth coursing through me.
I love her.
And suddenly my words run dry.
Held tight for so long
wrestling with doubt as powerful as sin
and confused by the trickery I've played on myself
--
~2008/2009
Literature
Everything You Borrowed
On Sunday afternoon,
after exiting the church,
you plucked the sun from the sky
and hid it in your palms
so that when I held your hands
they would no longer be cold.
When Monday night arrived
you snatched every single star
and used my tears to make
a necklace.
Tuesday's empty dawn shone
through the cracks of the door--
you stole the promise of what
could never be
and draped it around my shoulders.
After Wednesday's twilight passed,
you grabbed the clouds
and wove a tapestry of lies
that I hung on the walls
of my prison.
Thursday crept through us
on silent tiptoes,
waiting for us to take notice--
instead, we merely waited
for midnight to
Literature
Goodbye
i didn’t fall in love with you
until your skin was already grey and i
had to tell you what the weather was like
since you couldn’t leave your bed.
i didn’t mind long nights in the hospital
because making you laugh brought a warmth
to my cheeks that burnt hotter than a
forest fire, you never laughed at me for blushing
i snuck you in alcohol and forbidden foods
and pushed you around in that rusted wheel chair,
and all the nurses looked at us with
miserable eyes that said more than the doctors
would ever tell me.
naively i thought it was good news
when you said they were sending you home; but
when i saw you strewn across
Literature
Moving On
“No.” It was all I could say, taking in the carnage of what had just last night been my pristine kitchen. I wanted to collapse onto a chair, but they – and our spacious table – were covered in miscellany. Cleaning supplies, random knick-knacks from the living room, a thermometer, a scale. It was all there, strewn about.
My legs were shaking, and I fought the urge to cry. So messy. So dirty. No, no, no. I collapsed onto the shoe bench in between the Franco Sarto and the Gucci. I don't know where Giesswein had gone. I wished I could blame it on burglars, but no.
“She's doing it again!” I called, and my husb
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Sometimes realizing our truths are painful.
© 2010 - 2024 BeyondJen
Comments13
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The tricks we play on ourselves are the most cruel when we realize that we are our own jester.
The pain of truth though, is the most cutting, and the most healing.
Your vulnerability come through clearly.
The pain of truth though, is the most cutting, and the most healing.
Your vulnerability come through clearly.