Give up.

I give up.

I give into the pain tearing me apart from the inside out.

My heart has been ripped to shreds, stomped upon and scattered to the wind.

My love, my soul-mate, my heart's desire calls others 'sweetheart', tells them they are lovely.
Asks for pictures and cell phone numbers.
Tell them they are missed and longs to be close to them.

I no longer mean anything more than someone to cook and clean.
A nanny to our boys.

How can I mean so little so soon?

How will I go on?

Please stomp a little harder,
                   I can still breathe.

The Viking's Fight

   Treading water beneath a darkened sky. In the darkness, no land is visible though the Viking knows it's out there... somewhere. From the land, beautiful fireworks light up the sky. Using and pulling upon the strength of her ancestors coursing through the Viking's blood, treading to stray above the water to breath, to live, to see the fireworks. The water, living, pulling, sucking, dragging the Viking down into the depths.
   For a moment, lights shine upon the water. The Viking screaming and reaching out to be saved.
The boat ventures near but when seeing the Viking, turns and races back into the darkness not wishing to disturb its occupants. Loud music, laughter, feelings of anger and smell of alcohol soaked occupants from the boat fade away until just a fleeting memory for the Viking.
   Legs are aching, heart is breaking, the Viking's body screaming to give up to the water's pull. Another firework lights up the sky. Lasting only a moment in time, pouring strength into the Viking, giving reason to tread a bit longer. Always bits of hope and life showered in sparks across the darkness of the sky. Aiding the weary and broken. 
   Another day, perhaps more time will bring the boat around again. Longing for the land, the safety and security that it is rumored to bring.

Old Writings 7

Broken and torn. Pulled in opposite directions by unseen forces. Both pulling relentlessly. Neither giving reprieve.

Torn between past and future. Past being time whithered and safe. The future gleaming. Unsure and yet so tempting. Sparkling so brightly just out of reach.

Pulled between tradition and the desires of the heart.

Aching and torn. So confused she lays her heart open. Awaiting the press of cold steel as it bites in, leaving its mark against her soul. Open and bleeding she lays there crying. Hide me. Steal me. Keep me. Lock me away forever, she cries. Never let me go. Save my heart.

Broken and bleeding she stays curled upon the hard ground. Her tears mingling with the rain as it splashes against her lifeless form. Love me. Keep me. The wind echoes the cry of her heart... keep me....

Old Writings 6

Screaming. Pain. Darkness. Hideous whispers of self destruction. Desolation. Worthlessness. Ugliness. Looking in the mirror is a horrifying nightmare. Such ugliness. Imperfections. Disgusting.

I’m crying, I’m screaming…. Silence, nothing is really coming out.

This pen I hold is my outlet, yet so much more goes unsaid. What words are there for this lonely nightmare I live?

Just pain and darkness

I’m breaking. I’m dying, just not fast enough. Slowly Slowly giving into the spreading darkness that welcomes death.

Sleep, Oh how wonderful it would be to sleep… forever. Never to wake, never to dream. Just to float.

My soul is screaming for help. Where will it come from? Will it come? Do I really want it to come?

Living has become a chore. Haunted I’ve become, haunted my soul cries out in pain and desperation. Crying out to be saved. Who will mend my broken soul and spirit? Who cares enough to take the time? Who will help? Who will understand? Who will take my pain away? Who will put the glitter back in my eyes? Who can? If they can….. will they?

Broken… Crying…. Falling… Despair… Suffering….

Just let me go

                Let me go

                                I just want to go…. 

Old Writings 5

This painters canvas is flawed.

No painter will use it for anything of beauty. Just to be. No beautiful colors to radiate life. Just a blank flawed canvas. Used to try new colors or cleans one’s brush. It will never see great landscapes or a woman’s perfect curves. Just to be.

                Forgotten.

                                Thrown away.                  

                                                Twist just a little more and the pain will be no more.

Old Writings 4

From a cold dark world, I see a light no more than a pin prick but light nonetheless.

Reaching out, trying to grasp the hope the light brings with it, I cover the light with my hand. And it is gone.

Just that easy. Gone.

Slipping back into the darkness I let my hand slide away from the pin prick of hope.

Sitting in the darkness wishing the light would be tangible. Crying I stay in the darkness, not reaching out for now I understand hope can only be wished for. If I want the pin prick to stay I must live in the darkness.

Someone, please grant me hope.

Old Writings 3

Let me lie down.

Lay my head against its cold stone pillow and my body against the hard ground

Curl my body under the unforgiving weight of death.

Let darkness creep over me like a lovers body claiming its final kiss.

Hush now, No time for weeping…

The time has come…

Lie me down ne’er to wake again

Lie me down to sleep forever more.

Old Writings 2

Wake the dead. Rise up from you cold tombs. Let the sun warm you as you open your eyes to the new morning.

A new morning. Some say it’s a chance to start again. Really its just another day of hell. Walking, yet not feeling. Talking, yet not hearing. Smiling, yet crying.

Hide my tears. Close the window to my soul. Let not the pain and sorrow leak through the crevices.

Does anyone see the soul? Have the curtains been pulled tight enough to shutter the despair lurking behind them?

Bar the windows, Close your eyes. They are the window to your soul.

Old Writings 1

Memories last where words have gone to naught.

 Poignant they stay whether welcomed or scorned.

Always with feeling and usually a story. Quibbles and fights, giggles and smiles, but tears are the memories that will never fade. Friends and family try to understand but come up wanting.

Smiles on the lips, tears behind the eyes. Forever sad, forever alone.

To give in and die would be to break so many promises.

Learn to live in silence.

Hide behind the mask

No one will know.

Hide the pain.... hide the pain.