Momentary Appeasement

Once upon a time, in a land no so far away,

there lived a young maiden, 

who always managed to get herself into the worst sorts of trouble. 

You see, she was no ordinary girl. 

She had developed the body of a Goddess, with hair of gold, and eyes like the sea, 

and used her appeasing looks as leverage to get what she desired. 

She ran wild, like a whirl-wind,

romping with one man to the next.

Until her antics caught up with her. 

All her games were thrown back in her face, 

and she, like her once-unsuspecting victims, had to play.

However, the rules had changed.

And her eyes were opened. 

Now did she see the turmoil she had caused,

the families she had split, the bridges she had burned. 

The Game that was once so entertaining,  

became the cage in which she was to carry out her days. 

At every turn, she was remjnded of who she had done, 

and the consequences were repaid tenfold. 

She became meek, where she was boisterous,

invisible where she was apparent, 

and kind where she was cruel. 

After a time, she learned to live, 

and not just survive. 

But when faced with the possibility of hurting yet another man, 

she fought to keep him happy in exchange for hers.

Bearing this burden, 

she thought it her punishment,

for all the chaos she had caused. 

Yet when the man she had tried to make happy realized this,

he set her free. 

With her wings returned, 

she took to the sky, 

and has yet to come down. 

Moral of the story? 

Never give up personal happiness in exchange for the happiness of another's for fear of causing them pain. They will notice and the relationship will suffer. 

The Shores of Time

Close your eyes, and what do you see?

Hear? 

Smell? 

To each their own, as is common in today's reality. 

But what if we could see deeper, closer into another's reality? 

A place once entrenched in blood and tears and sweat has become peaceful.

Tovarisch.

Through the battles, the sun began to rise above the blood moon, 

chasing away the shadows, encompassing my eyes with light.

If only my peace could be shared. 

The demons we once fought together no longer linger behind my eyes, 

only yours.

If the scars we bear could be outgrown, pushed away from memory,

would you still be so blankly staring into oblivion?  

The shores I walk hungrily envelope my footsteps,  but avoid yours altogether.

Dorogoy,  come back to me. 

No longer do we need to battle our ways through time, 

not when safety is our present, and our future. 

Hold my hand, and let me show you,

that this love is nothing to fear.

Tovarisch: Russian for 'comrade', used mostly in the USSR

Dorogoy: Russian for 'darling' 

For Future Reference

I've been pondering these words for a long while, 
And it seems that everyday that passes by I can't help but feel jilted but this lifetime. 
When we were young we had so much to hope for, back when the world was green and filled with possibility. 
But now as I trudge on I can't help but be cynical to this whole idea of living and dreaming as the norm would see fit. 
I miss the days when laughter was free and our hearts held no grudge, 
As we have grown jovial comradely is rare and our once pure hearts grew black with despair. 
I don't wish to live in the past but how can I live in a future of which I see no good? 
It's as if the days we used to laugh and giggle away take a century to pass, 
And the very glue which held us together is now the reason we are on opposite ends. 
If only words could bring us back together.

Tovarishch Moy Dorogoy

Behind the manifold of placid masks, 
I dance between pitiable and fiendish faces of my oppressors, 
their malice towards my being eradicates my self worth to that of a maggot. 
Treated as a malignly I am help captive by the siroc of my own emotions,
and I am acquiesced for that small hope in my heart that I too may be accepted. 
My apparition is countered by with repugnance for my individual, 
The environs of my mind contain such distaste for my own shadow give me no escape from myself. 
To interchange places with a god would be a dream, 
but one that will slip between the grasp of my clammy fingers. 
To be able to pass by the days of pain, knowing there is a brighter light upon the exit of this path, 
To go back to the exordium of my own insanity, 
to feel your lips pressed upon my forehead one last time, 
or the cool of the gun below my chin- these are my dearest adjurations.
Before the undulation of being "crazy", 
when the benevolence of man wasn't entirely against me. 
Tovarishch. 
My comrade. 
You chased away my abjectly painful moods, 
back when the marooned skiff upon the shore was our ship, 
and you, her captain. 
Where disquisitions of the sea were held over the puddle in the back yard, instead of tea, 
and tears were only shed when there was blood-loss rather than words, never for cataracts of manipulation. 
Now, I've shed enough tears to fill up the ocean, and enough blood for vampires. 
Bags under eyes like bruises, 
And the eyes that were once filled with childish play are now full of solemnity and as much salt as the Dead Sea.
I will always love you,
even if its from a distance, now.
But I hope this gun shows more love and appreciation than you, 
and in heaven the angels don't cry.  
Good-bye, tovarishch, 
I hope one day you'll be able to look past these scars.    

Posttraumatic Musings

Its not the flashbacks anymore that gets me.
Hell, not even the pain that drives me to the brink of extinction.
Its the helplessness.
The knowlege that the first time in your entire life you were vulnerable,
was all it took for him to slip beneath the surface.
In you.
Around you.
Pouring his malice and trickery into the depths of your pours,
past your defense,
and into the very core being of your soul.
The very thought of him sends warnings of danger down my spine.
Ignorance of those around me penetrates my chest,
brewing a deep seeded anxiety that consumes me whole.
I AM THE VERY BEING YOUR SOUL FEARS.
I AM THE VICTIM OF YOUR NIGHTMARES.
I. AM.

Cement-filled Lungs

It's sad how much my heart can bleed for you but you're too blind to notice.
Though the pain has lessened it never goes away.
To think of what we lost is like dying,
But to try and take back the past will kill me.
We've both moved on, but it hurts to think of what should have never happened, what should have taken place.
Being close to you makes my lungs harden, makimg it difficult to breathe,
but if this is what I have to endure to move past you, I will endure.
Finding someone who deserves my love brings back more memories of you,
though this time I wont make the same mistakes.
I'll learn what it is to truly love, and not just lust,
I'll stop hiding my pain, and face the music.

Love Since Past

My dearest love,

            Do you remember our first meeting? How my sarcasm battled your scrutiny? Or how my heartbeat intensified at the feeling of your warm, worn palm against my cool, sweaty one? Oh dearest, if only time travel were possible and I could take back the knowledge of what I know now, then. Do you hold that memory, that heartbreakingly beautiful moment of fiery stubbornness and sarcastic smiles as close to your heart as I do? Do you remember my twisted smile as you puked out all your “nerd knowledge” to my on a silver platter? Do you remember our goodbye? The feeling of your wizened palm tenderly tapping my forehead, whispering, “One day, you’ll understand.”? Do you know how stupid I felt? Not knowing what the hell you were talking about? If only I could read minds, because then I would’ve said “yes.”.

            “Did you ever look, did you ever see that one person and the subtle way they do these things and it hurts so much? So much like choking down the embers of a great blaze.”  For days I’d stay up, talking to you; contact was necessary, and so wrong. Then I wished to be with you, and only you, not caring who I destroyed in the process. Oh darling, why didn’t you give me more time? Time to be with you, time to mourn you, time to love you; if you were so “in-love” with me, why didn’t you take me, claim me, make me yours? Do you remember our time with Joey? The goose bumps that decorated my sweat-layered skin? The hearty laugh that sprinted full force out from between your teeth, past your tongue and resounding off the grey gravestones? Do you remember how many packs we smoked in that two hour period? Or how many tears I shed? How about our first and last kiss, do you remember that? The way you held me so protectively in your arms? The way you ever-so-lovingly grabbed me by my shoulders and whispered “Don’t overexcite yourself.”? Do you recall the taste of my tongue gingerly touching yours? I do, and for almost a year now, this memory has eaten away at my stomach, and my heart.

            Darling, do you hold the same hate form me that I hold for myself? The terrible things I did to get back at you for breaking my spirit in thirds? Will you ever forgive me? Dearest, you were the full moon to my night sky, lighting my path, gently guiding me so what we both assumed was safety. I’m sorry I asked you to wait like I did. I’m sorry for betraying your trust. I’m sorry I didn’t leave him fast enough, I’m sorry I didn’t make room. I’m sorry for my lie, my deceit, my shame. And most of all, I’m sorry I wasn’t there when I should have been.

            Oh my love, do you remember the scent of cherry blossoms? Or the crisp, cool air that marked the beginning of spring? If we could go back in time, would you still hold me as carefully as you did then? Would you help me carry my scars? Would you let me carry yours? Each day that passes could be your last, would you let me help you carry that burden if things were different? If things were different…funny that. If things were different I’d be in your arms, stroking away the pain. Smoothing back your ruffled feathers, helping you learn to fly again. If things were different, then we wouldn’t have to carry this burden separately.

            “It breaks my heart, to know the only reason you are here now is a reminder of what I’ll never have.” What I’ll never have…you once told me that, you know. In your own words, love, “I’m in love with something I can never have.”. If only, darling, you had taken me as your own, so that separately we wouldn’t have to carry black lungs, and broken hearts. As I close, dearest, please remember my voice, telling you that I am always here, waiting. Remember my touch, my love, and how I always want to ease your pain, even if the blackened lungs and ulcer ridden stomach I carry try to prevent me from doing so, please remember, darling, that I will always carry my love for you.