When love makes you feel ugly
The day I died
I looked into your eyes
and saw nothing there.
Just a wince and an expression that said,
“I wish you weren’t here”.
I kept searching...
trying to see any sign
that you wanted me;
that you still loved me.
All I could view was a thick, angry wall
that I felt responsible
I’m too much of everything you said.
I smother you
I walk on you
I kill you.
Now, I am a walking shroud
staring lifelessly into nothing.
The grayness of everything
has penetrated into my soul
and the life I had built my happiness around
just lies there
awaiting for me to bury it...
I’m afraid to say goodbye.
I’m afraid to put us into the icy grave
along with the despair I feel.
I had never felt so alive
and so loved
or cherished as I had when I was with you.
I know that if I don’t finish things off
and cast us into the depths of hell
then I too will begin to reside there
for I can taste the sulfur
and feel the flames
and hear the sorrows of mournful souls
and I truly don’t want to be there any longer.
If only the sun would shine
and I could see the light
at the end of this empty, long tunnel.
I keep hearing the resonance
of our laughter.
I still feel the warmth of your body.
I can’t bring myself to change the sheets on my bed
because each night
I hope to catch your scent
somewhere in the folds.
Tears pour out
unpredictably each day.
I walk with heavy steps
as if bound by cement blocks
and my heart drags
as if it is bound and gagged
and forced to beat
against its own will.
This is the ugliness of love...
not many people want to see it
or admit they have experienced it.
True love for another
causes such pain
when it is stopped short-
yet hatred does not exist
anger does not surface.
Only the longing
continues to survive...
Just enough to make one sick to their stomach.
Just enough to make me give up sleep.
Just enough to make me feel like a prisoner
in my own body.
I can’t escape.
I can’t escape my thoughts of you.
Your strong hands,
your gentle caress,
your endearing kisses upon my forehead.
The connecting of our bodies
to make a perfect puzzle.
The beauty of you and I.
I miss you so very much.
Love shouldn’t feel ugly. I am constantly, these days, looking at my past feelings of sadness, with the loss of a partner, and how each break-up made me feel ugly. I stopped loving me. I began to hate myself and blame myself for the endings. How tragic that so many of us find a need to taint and kill positive feelings about ourselves in order for us to move on. Remember, it takes two. You can not have a relationship when both people are not truly involved. You make choices and they do too. You make mistakes and they do too. What I do for therapy, as you can see in my poetry, is take all of my negative feelings and put them in poetry. The creative me feels strong. That doesn’t experience loss. I wish that all of us could take our creativity and use it in other endeavors that would be rewarding to our entire life. Perhaps, with time, I will learn to do so. I truly am trying.
My love for you is an open wound;
One that will not heal.
No covering forms,
To protect me from the continuous pain
that infiltrates my heart.
I know of no dressing
that can shield me from what I am feeling.
Instead my heart gapes out
I muster through each day
pretending that you don’t matter any more.
It’s a lie.
Like a drug for an addict
you are my fix.
You were the smile on my face.
Now you are the sorrow in my soul.
How I long to envision
you coming back to me...
Embracing my face with your hands-
kissing my lips
and rolling your tongue around mine.
I imagine your touch everywhere;
our legs wrapped and intertwined.
Our bodies so close that no space can be found,
and we embrace and know it will be alright.
It’s alright to be different.
It’s alright to love with such intensity.
It’s alright to feel fear
because what we’ve got is so special
we never want to lose it.
Fear won’t last however;
for we know WE are right together.
We can coincide together
with our differences and our similarities.
We can walk hand in hand;
because we are the best of friends.
The perfect match.
Then, I wake up from my daydream
and realize you are gone.
There still is no scab forming.
The blood runs steadily out
and the wound continues to bleed.
I cannot let this be my demise.
True love cuts so deeply,
I will forever carry a scar.
I believe that we will always carry scars from past relationships. My goal is to glance upon that scar and brag about it; like a commander in the service who boasts a bullet wound. Past loves and the failure of past relationships need to be looked at as stepping stones in our life. We cannot assume that the first few people that enter our lives are our saviors. We need to empower ourselves and become our own saviors. I want to be able to someday know that when I feel that wince of pain, it means I’M ALIVE! If I am dead, I feel nothing. It is from feeling that we grow and continue on in life. Though it may seem a struggle most days, there is an intrinsic force that urges us to continue on. Maybe it’s the “grass is always greener” syndrome. I don’t know. All I know is that I want to lay in that grass and leave the withered, brown shoots beneath my feet on the other side. I want to see greener pastures before my eyes. I won’t ever discover them if I don’t continue my journey.
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