the cold makes it hurt
makes it creak and groan.
So tired of long days, long nights
coast to coast flights in full planes.
Weariness I wear like a skin,
loneliness a bedfellow.
So tired.
Dreams again..
My book collection. Walking into my room and having my pick of a hundred or two beautiful masses of words to wrap myself into.. anything I want.. Philosophy, History, Fantasy.. any world I want. Pulling a story to read to someone, to share something that means so much to me...
Waking up next to someone special.. the warm, smooth arch of a spine under my hand.. the soft musk in his hair.. the gentle sound of sleep lulling me back into slumber. Long nights awake, so much shared with so little spoken.
Nightmares sometimes..
Loud, angry. Waking up with tears streaming down my face.. as if I could just cry enough, it'd stop .. please stop. Stop please, it hurts. You're hurting me, let me go.. please please god please just let me go. Whimpering, sobbing, begging, pleading, crying, screaming. Please let it be over soon, please. Feeling useless.. worthless.. as if it were my fault.. it had to be my fault .. I must have done something wrong, I made him angry.
Waking up..
some scars heal slowly. Painfully.
Breathe. In .. out ... again. Rinse, repeat.
See my scars?
They're there, I swear.
Criss-crossing my body, over arms, under thighs
lacing like spiderwebs over my hands
layer upon layer over my cheeks and eyes
small ones, fine ones
longer, thicker
caressing my stomach, my hips
gentle kisses and harsh screams
small tears, angry voices
some broken hearts and a few lost hopes
small hurts carefully plotted and planned
one here, two there, maybe one more next to these
hurt me, hate me, leave your mark
I'll carry your scar upon my heart
she hurt you, let me take the pain
he hit you, I'll make it go away
lost friends, lost homes, lost lost lost lost lost
it hurts to see sometimes
to look in a mirror and see these scars
twisted flesh, burnt and burning
ripped skin, careful cuts
marred surface, rippled with pain
everywhere, face, neck, shoulders, back
over my ribs, down my arms
so many scars, too many scars
can you see them? how can you not?
I see them. every day I see them.
everywhere.
They're there, I swear.
But you can't see them. Because they're inside.
These are my life experience. My "youth".. childhood tortures, teenage nightmares. Lost things, broken parts. I carry them because they mark a record of my life... so much life in such a short time.
These are my courage. My strength. My dreams, hopes .. the things I've survived, given up, taken back, given away, broken, healed.
These are my age. The record of who I am.. who I've been.. I can count them. Recount them.. stories, memories .. some hurt, some don't. Some are tears .. hot, painful, choking me. Some make me smile, laugh, sigh.
My heart feels old. So old.
These bones of mine. They ache.
makes it creak and groan.
So tired of long days, long nights
coast to coast flights in full planes.
Weariness I wear like a skin,
loneliness a bedfellow.
So tired.
Dreams again..
My book collection. Walking into my room and having my pick of a hundred or two beautiful masses of words to wrap myself into.. anything I want.. Philosophy, History, Fantasy.. any world I want. Pulling a story to read to someone, to share something that means so much to me...
Waking up next to someone special.. the warm, smooth arch of a spine under my hand.. the soft musk in his hair.. the gentle sound of sleep lulling me back into slumber. Long nights awake, so much shared with so little spoken.
Nightmares sometimes..
Loud, angry. Waking up with tears streaming down my face.. as if I could just cry enough, it'd stop .. please stop. Stop please, it hurts. You're hurting me, let me go.. please please god please just let me go. Whimpering, sobbing, begging, pleading, crying, screaming. Please let it be over soon, please. Feeling useless.. worthless.. as if it were my fault.. it had to be my fault .. I must have done something wrong, I made him angry.
Waking up..
some scars heal slowly. Painfully.
Breathe. In .. out ... again. Rinse, repeat.
See my scars?
They're there, I swear.
Criss-crossing my body, over arms, under thighs
lacing like spiderwebs over my hands
layer upon layer over my cheeks and eyes
small ones, fine ones
longer, thicker
caressing my stomach, my hips
gentle kisses and harsh screams
small tears, angry voices
some broken hearts and a few lost hopes
small hurts carefully plotted and planned
one here, two there, maybe one more next to these
hurt me, hate me, leave your mark
I'll carry your scar upon my heart
she hurt you, let me take the pain
he hit you, I'll make it go away
lost friends, lost homes, lost lost lost lost lost
it hurts to see sometimes
to look in a mirror and see these scars
twisted flesh, burnt and burning
ripped skin, careful cuts
marred surface, rippled with pain
everywhere, face, neck, shoulders, back
over my ribs, down my arms
so many scars, too many scars
can you see them? how can you not?
I see them. every day I see them.
everywhere.
They're there, I swear.
But you can't see them. Because they're inside.
These are my life experience. My "youth".. childhood tortures, teenage nightmares. Lost things, broken parts. I carry them because they mark a record of my life... so much life in such a short time.
These are my courage. My strength. My dreams, hopes .. the things I've survived, given up, taken back, given away, broken, healed.
These are my age. The record of who I am.. who I've been.. I can count them. Recount them.. stories, memories .. some hurt, some don't. Some are tears .. hot, painful, choking me. Some make me smile, laugh, sigh.
My heart feels old. So old.
These bones of mine. They ache.
