Thursday, 8 June 2017

Packing up

Yet again
I find myself packing up my stuff.
Rolling, not folding, to make space for it all.
Putting all this weight I am, to use,
just to get it shut inside,
just to hide
all of me that's usually rare to see,
all of me that's strange and yet too real,
packed away yet again with hope to never have reason to see the light of day
to never again fall prey to love,
to never fall, only rise above.
This implosion of sorts
felt too real.
I thought we had a deal,
but words mean more to me than they do to you.
And I vow now, to never resort to poetry, if in love, I fall again
I will cut off a finger before it touches a pen,
For in words I found security
Purity of a love.
And in words, all said and done,
I found betrayal, that of trust, trust in just one.
I wish to move away and on
wish to never meet another one
wish to never put down in words,
how wonderful life is when one's in the world.
My face in my hands, warm tears moisten my palms,
just a tired soul and restless qualms.
There's only so much one can take,
there's only so many compromises one can make.
Shake me out of this bad dream,
tell me nothing's as it seems,
before I stand up, ready to go,
suitcase of loyalty and love in tow.
My words for you always just flow,
now they cause chills, turned cold and bitter,
no silver lining to your worlds stormy weather.
My words, they floored,
But now they don't even make sense anymore.

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