Zis Regret: Her Final Valentine

Ze wishes to go back in time
And never meet her
Knowing now, the end
Ze wished it had never even begun.

But youth is foolish
The summer air fills with potential
A world of happiness trapped
In her smile.

Like any smile, hers hides a world of pain
Zis laugh smothers discontent
But both find pleasure in the moment
Of meeting.

If only ze
Had stuck to zis instincts
Ze could have avoided
So much anguish.

They duct taped a world
And made it their own
Exacerbating each other
Painful hindsight.

Ze wonders if ze had
Been too vulnerable
Perhaps, ze should not have been so honest
Should have kept zis heart locked away.

Because she hurt zim so much more
Than all the others who’d gone before
Not just because of timing
But because ze had trusted her.

Ze wanted to be vulnerable
With her, test the waters
After prior hurts, ze
Let her in.

Ze can’t do this anymore
Can’t deal with friends who hurt
And carve up zis soul
Grafitti zis skin with scars.

Ze has no more tolerance
The pain drowns zim
Ze’d rather erase all their days
Never meet her again.

Ze’d rather she just tell him straight
That she hates zim, wants nothing to do with zim
That she’d explain why
She hurt zim this way.

Ze doesn’t need to be hurt again
Ze hurts zimself enough
Others have hurt zim before
She doesn’t need to hurt zim again.

Why did she pretend to love zim?
Ze’d rather stay alone
Than be tricked into thinking that someone
Wanted to be zis friend.

And what did ze ever do to her?
To make her turn against zim
Ze doesn’t know, and perhaps it’s
Better that way.

But ze’s done writing messages
To never hear reply
Ze’s done wondering what ze did
To be driven into exile.

Ze doesn’t want to hear her name
Never again will ze
Even worry for a moment that she’s okay
Because ze needs to be selfish, else ze will die.

And, yes, perhaps it has nothing to do with zim
The silence could be purely coincidental
But when she ghosted zim from her life
It went beyond apathy to pure indifference.

And ze’s tired of feeling that pain
Tired of bleeding out on the balcony
Waiting for her to find zim worthy
To reenter her good graces.

What had ze done?
What had ze done to result in this?
All ze knows is that the rift isn’t zis
And that ze needs to let go – once and for all.

And so, ze stumbles away
Binding wounds that bleed to this day
Someday, ze will regain zis trust
But definitely not today.

Perhaps ze will finally
Find someone who actually cares
Will love zim, and will not
Cut zim up again.

But the world is meant to hurt
Ze accepts that ze will always be carved
By those who pretend to love
Hopefully next time, ze will see it coming.

Blinded by love
Ze never saw her
Blade sinking into
Zis heart.

Oblivion… Is there?

Many weeks ago:

“Oh my gosh! Did you hear about Orlando?” my friend asked as I slurped my vanilla-bean frappaccino.

“What, the weather? Yeah, the hurricanes are bad in FL right now…”

“No, the shooting! The one at the nightclub.”She shook her phone at my puzzled expression.

“What?! What shooting?”

“Yeah, there are 50 dead and 53 wounded! Some Muslim guy walked in and shot a bunch of people in a gay nightclub. They’re calling it the worst shooting session to date.”

I blinked. “What?!!”

How did I not know?

Continue reading Oblivion… Is there?

When Protection = Hurting yourself

Welcome to one of my disorganized posts…

When protecting yourself is hurting yourself…

That could be the mission statement for my life. Period.

In many ways, pain has been a constant companion in my life. And I’m okay with that. Maybe my mission statement should actually be:

You know you’re alive when you feel pain.

Continue reading When Protection = Hurting yourself

Without her

Take me with you, within your mind;
Hold my hand
And tell me the rabbit hole has room for two

The unstable building…

The rattle of warning went unheard.
A warrior’s arrogance,
Seasoned with brute force and directness,
Ceased the hand of mercy.

He cried, weeping at the barrenness,
The null within his hollow arms;
Uncaring in his sorrow that the predator lurked,
He didn’t care, without her, he didn’t care.

What chains can hold a broken spirit?
A life already dead can not be resurrected.
And with what, can a mortal bargain a miracle?
Pure debts unpaid cannot be met with filth.

Yet, the victor gets his cut,
The tax, its due;
The lender what was borrowed,
The dog, its day.

Swallow back the sorrow and decay,
Clench the fist of futility;
And bury that which is precious yet lost,
Swear allegiance to the guardians of death and revenge.

When the eyes of grief behold only anguish,
When the only organ that beats is rage;
After the streams and rivers are choked with
Shattered husks and bodies.

What then? Oh mortal, when your chalice overflows,
And you pick the bones at your trestle;
What then?
When your arms are still shattered, empty.

What solace is conquest?
Can the sword extract the pain?
Does the slaughter of thousands
Erase your blood-slicked agony?