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Untitled
Silence is deafening.
It echos in the voids in which he once occupied. I still can't determine whether he's there, or just gone, fishing. Grief is hard to explain, when you've lost someone that you love. Even though, they're still drawing breath, it's just not the same breath that was once shared.
Though, if he were to speak, he wouldn't be able to cope with having to clarify the underlying. Much lies between us, yet the vacancy between us at present, is enough to make anyone feel discombobulated.
I struggle conceptually to grasp people, yet I'm fully congnisant of human behavior. I suppose, it's the inconsistencies that grip me, internally, to the point where it's hard to breath.
Loyalty and trust are foundational for many of us, and it's the end all and be all when it comes to my affirmations, affiliations, or affections. Without those elements, I don't see the point in channeling ones energy into a vacant space that isn't able to reciprocate.
Reciprocity, means everything, as does time. Time is an expensive commodity on my watch.
However, I spent too much time in observation to ascertain the integrity and character of another as it's better to make informed decisions, as opposed to going through the motions, and reciting to yourself "I told you so !" after the fact.
I don't know about others, but I despise those words. Just as much as I despise hindsight.
I'm tenacious when it comes to healing the fragments that exist because I wasn't born to be anything other than who I am, and I wouldn't expect anything less of another.
Some things don't bother me, and I couldn't care less. However, when it comes to people and my state of being, particularly my emotional well being, it's imperative to understand thy self, intimately.
I dissect everything, and leave no stone unturned, it's how I've been trained professionally. It's a pity that it translates across to other areas of my life. However, I'm inquisitive, methodical & analytic.
At least, he wasn't an ethical dilemma.
The greatest things that matter the most, are the little things, and presence. I don't see the validity once those ingredients have decided to go road tripping, without a set itinerary or a return date.
My vision is clouded as I reside on the fringes, and linger between the might be's and have been's, whilst trying to temper being fully immersed in the centre stage of my life.
Everything is happening, all at once.
Truth and trust has always been elusive in my life, or they've both been busy having a wild love affair with lies and deceit. I can never tell, at the time. I just feel the shattering within, when it unfolds as such.
Sometimes, I can't even distinguish their whereabouts, at all.
Though, I understand they're on the periphery of my vision, whilst my heart is being slivered, subtly. When I love, I love so deeply, that I'm usually fragmented at the realisation of betrayal.
The kind you aren't ever expecting, this hinting is often denied in turning a blind eye, until you're hit like a freight train.
I must learn to remove my heart from my sleeve, and shove it deep down in my back pocket, until I can learn to love again. It does nothing but torment me, especially when I think about all the truths I discovered, which conflicted with what I felt.
Sometimes, what we know to be the truth in the depths of our heart, conflicts with the actualities, and I'm counting the causalities. Juxtaposed between truth and lies, and who knows who lies, where or with whom.
His heart. Hers. Mine. It matters not as what was purified has now been tainted, like a smearing upon my visual capacity.
But, just because I felt it, it doesn't make it truth.
So. We say nothing, and pretend as if our hearts weren't aligned, as if it didn't matter, as if we never really loved one another, as we declared.
A declaration of love meant accepting an open invitation to battle within his raging war, until it's all the same when your eyes are blurry from the salty fluidity of his remnants, it's how he strategises and inflicts his wounds as he derives pleasure from your sufferance.
And, those tears couldn't possibly be indicative of what lies beneath the surface, upon his shipwrecked shores, which he wasn't too sure about.
I haven't lost my words whilst mourning during the wake of all that was massacred, within the depths of me, I'm recovering from being inflicted.
God forbid he ever hear these words from my mouth, even though, he's a cunning stunt, or stunning cunt. Either way, it's all the same, I still can't ascertain which of those might apply to him.
For truth to unravel, it has to be a mutual flow, to enable it to be kindled further. But, that's for another day, or time to extrapolate upon as here and now isn't the place.
Evidently, it's late, and I'm tired of talking to myself until my eyes are heavy. Tired of being cast upon my sea of nothingness, drifting without an anchoring.
So, I say nothing more further, because it wraps him in bubble wrap, and keeps him safe from harm. Even though, it's in the nothingness that we'll lose the love we made, without laying a finger upon one another's flesh.
It's his way, or the highway because he likes to have his cake, and eat it too.
However, he wasn't taking note that I'm a long distance driver too, and when I leave, he'll be in the rear view mirror driving in the opposite direction as he's too stubborn to understand my tenacity, when it comes to me nourishing & nurturing his heart.
But, what does it all matter, when you're being played like a melodic tune that others are chanting in the same breath.
It means nothing. Other than you play a role in his puppetry show, for all to see. Embarrassing-ly and foolish-ly.
Though, I have the advantage of knowing, whilst the others, are blind as bats and none the wiser.
And, this is what happens when curiosity kills the cat.
_____________________________________________________________
Love one another, but make not a bond of love.
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Khalil Gibran, The Prophet [b][/b]
It echos in the voids in which he once occupied. I still can't determine whether he's there, or just gone, fishing. Grief is hard to explain, when you've lost someone that you love. Even though, they're still drawing breath, it's just not the same breath that was once shared.
Though, if he were to speak, he wouldn't be able to cope with having to clarify the underlying. Much lies between us, yet the vacancy between us at present, is enough to make anyone feel discombobulated.
I struggle conceptually to grasp people, yet I'm fully congnisant of human behavior. I suppose, it's the inconsistencies that grip me, internally, to the point where it's hard to breath.
Loyalty and trust are foundational for many of us, and it's the end all and be all when it comes to my affirmations, affiliations, or affections. Without those elements, I don't see the point in channeling ones energy into a vacant space that isn't able to reciprocate.
Reciprocity, means everything, as does time. Time is an expensive commodity on my watch.
However, I spent too much time in observation to ascertain the integrity and character of another as it's better to make informed decisions, as opposed to going through the motions, and reciting to yourself "I told you so !" after the fact.
I don't know about others, but I despise those words. Just as much as I despise hindsight.
I'm tenacious when it comes to healing the fragments that exist because I wasn't born to be anything other than who I am, and I wouldn't expect anything less of another.
Some things don't bother me, and I couldn't care less. However, when it comes to people and my state of being, particularly my emotional well being, it's imperative to understand thy self, intimately.
I dissect everything, and leave no stone unturned, it's how I've been trained professionally. It's a pity that it translates across to other areas of my life. However, I'm inquisitive, methodical & analytic.
At least, he wasn't an ethical dilemma.
The greatest things that matter the most, are the little things, and presence. I don't see the validity once those ingredients have decided to go road tripping, without a set itinerary or a return date.
My vision is clouded as I reside on the fringes, and linger between the might be's and have been's, whilst trying to temper being fully immersed in the centre stage of my life.
Everything is happening, all at once.
Truth and trust has always been elusive in my life, or they've both been busy having a wild love affair with lies and deceit. I can never tell, at the time. I just feel the shattering within, when it unfolds as such.
Sometimes, I can't even distinguish their whereabouts, at all.
Though, I understand they're on the periphery of my vision, whilst my heart is being slivered, subtly. When I love, I love so deeply, that I'm usually fragmented at the realisation of betrayal.
The kind you aren't ever expecting, this hinting is often denied in turning a blind eye, until you're hit like a freight train.
I must learn to remove my heart from my sleeve, and shove it deep down in my back pocket, until I can learn to love again. It does nothing but torment me, especially when I think about all the truths I discovered, which conflicted with what I felt.
Sometimes, what we know to be the truth in the depths of our heart, conflicts with the actualities, and I'm counting the causalities. Juxtaposed between truth and lies, and who knows who lies, where or with whom.
His heart. Hers. Mine. It matters not as what was purified has now been tainted, like a smearing upon my visual capacity.
But, just because I felt it, it doesn't make it truth.
So. We say nothing, and pretend as if our hearts weren't aligned, as if it didn't matter, as if we never really loved one another, as we declared.
A declaration of love meant accepting an open invitation to battle within his raging war, until it's all the same when your eyes are blurry from the salty fluidity of his remnants, it's how he strategises and inflicts his wounds as he derives pleasure from your sufferance.
And, those tears couldn't possibly be indicative of what lies beneath the surface, upon his shipwrecked shores, which he wasn't too sure about.
I haven't lost my words whilst mourning during the wake of all that was massacred, within the depths of me, I'm recovering from being inflicted.
God forbid he ever hear these words from my mouth, even though, he's a cunning stunt, or stunning cunt. Either way, it's all the same, I still can't ascertain which of those might apply to him.
For truth to unravel, it has to be a mutual flow, to enable it to be kindled further. But, that's for another day, or time to extrapolate upon as here and now isn't the place.
Evidently, it's late, and I'm tired of talking to myself until my eyes are heavy. Tired of being cast upon my sea of nothingness, drifting without an anchoring.
So, I say nothing more further, because it wraps him in bubble wrap, and keeps him safe from harm. Even though, it's in the nothingness that we'll lose the love we made, without laying a finger upon one another's flesh.
It's his way, or the highway because he likes to have his cake, and eat it too.
However, he wasn't taking note that I'm a long distance driver too, and when I leave, he'll be in the rear view mirror driving in the opposite direction as he's too stubborn to understand my tenacity, when it comes to me nourishing & nurturing his heart.
But, what does it all matter, when you're being played like a melodic tune that others are chanting in the same breath.
It means nothing. Other than you play a role in his puppetry show, for all to see. Embarrassing-ly and foolish-ly.
Though, I have the advantage of knowing, whilst the others, are blind as bats and none the wiser.
And, this is what happens when curiosity kills the cat.
_____________________________________________________________
Love one another, but make not a bond of love.
Let it rather be a moving sea between the shores of your souls.
Khalil Gibran, The Prophet [b][/b]
Published 4th Nov 2014
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Anonymous
- Edited 4th Nov 2014 9:41pm
4th Nov 2014 9:39pm
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