Grief Written

Someone once compared being sad to drowning in the ocean The waves crash over your head It fills your lungs Drags you under and no matter how hard you try you         cant                breathe .  But to me it's f l o a t i n g through space Nothing can touch you Nothing can ground you You're left alone  Spiraling through the never ending atmosphere of your sadness and thoughts. You        are             alone . And I think that's what scares me most.... I rather drown in an ocean of tears; for the waves drag me under and fill my lungs with briny salt water.                                                                         ungrounded Than f l o a t aimle...

a·stig·ma·tism noun 1 . a defect in the eye or in a lens caused by a deviation from spherical curvature, which results in distorted images, as light rays are prevented from meeting at a common focus . In the world we live in, everyone focuses on perfection. Perfect  skin. Perfect teeth. Perfect height. Perfect weight. Perfect everything. We've developed this, astigmatism of ourselves. Looking through the lens of society, we forget that the lens has a defect. What you see in the mirror is not what is actually there. Society shows you distorted images. The images tell you that you're worthless because you're not perfect. The astigmatism distorts the images and prevents rays of self love from meeting a common focus. Society clinically places the lens in your eye and stands detached as the lens causes them to water. The tears course down your cheeks as the lens distorts your view of not only yourself, but the world. But let m...

"I don't want that to go to your head, I want that to go to your heart." So I ticketed the phrase with a one way to my heart where it would get off... But you know how public transportations are. So risky and unreliable. The phrase experienced a delay, caught somewhere between my mind and heart. The conductor called out "We're experiencing some, uh, difficulties. Please bear with us." So the phrase shifted around nervously in it's seat and tried to look inconspicuous. Another passenger got up and walked to where the phrase sat, trying to remain unseen. "I'm doubt" it introduced itself settling next to the phrase, "where are you headed?" "The heart," muttered the phrase clutching it's ticket for reassurance. Doubt laughed and glanced the phrase over. "You don't belong there. You belong up top, where the mind is. Works great up there, very logical. You, of course, would need some revising. You j...

"I wish I didn't have to fix myself"  like who you are is a mistake ... an error in a complicated math problem ending up with an Y instead of an X leaving you to ask the question why why why . a typo in the novel of yourself picked out by the harshest critic ridiculed ? , circled, underlined , and torn apart. But it isn't a mistake                                  an error                                               a typo it isn't something WRONG with you. The only fixing you need is......... your bruises           ...

Words cannot describe what I feel for you. Scattered and crumbled pages strewn across the floor, demonstrate pathetic attempts. Crossed out phrases Scratched out words  Frustration flowing through the pen  The 26 letters in the alphabet have completely and utterly failed me. Unable to form a phrase about your eyes Or a word for your smile  Or a even syllable about your laugh The constants and vowels crumble, useless. And all these letters can offer me is one word, using 4 letters of the 26. Love. But this word cannot contain all I feel for you. It is spilling over the edges. It is not large enough or wide  to hold all I feel. If I could, I would rearrange all 26 letters to form a word.  And yet the word would still not be long enough or tall enough. Words and letters are incompetent. Failures. They cannot rearrange in such a way to describe what I feel for you. So I settle for the word they can offer, love. And oh do I feel that for you.

Part Three The Eyes. They say the eyes are the window to your soul. Looking into mine you can see the blinds are pulled tight. And the [curtains are}{ yanked shut] Shutting out prying eyes, and peeping toms. Desperate for a peek of my naked soul. Once they realized how tight   the curtains were drawn they walked away d isappointed. But you sat beneath my window [}{]        .        .  .          . Tossing rocks         .  .           .           .   .        .      .             . Like some insistent Romeo. Little by little The curtain was [dra}aaaaaaaa{wn] away. And my soul shyly show...

Part Two: The legs. It was a Monday when we first kissed I remember, because I told you Monday's were my favorite day. Your eyes lit up in amusement when I told that Mondays were like a redo, a fresh start. You kissed me then, telling me I deserved the best beginning to my fresh start. My knees went           , like you had             on your lips. Making me feel           and                           weak                      alcohol                           ...

Part One: The Hands The day you first held my hand you laughed in shock "Your hands are so cold." Then you smiled and brought my fingers to your lips. Warm breath fanned across my fingers. My heart skipped a beat, and my freezing fingers began to thaw. In that moment I vowed I'd never let you go. You'd have to be pried from my Cold                     Dead                                             Hands . And in a way, you were. The day you left my hands fell to my sides empty, and soon the cold set in. Your hands weren't there to keep mine warm. And I felt dead. Lifeless. You pried your hand from mine and I had no choice But      ...

Hey little fighter, I know you're drowning in an ocean of tears, And you're struggling to learn how to swim. I know your life is a mess of tangled Christmas lights, When you get one colored bulb to light up another goes out. I know you're wrestling with your exhaustion, And you keep getting pinned. And it's okay. Maybe quit trying to swim, float on your back awhile. Gaze up at the strikingly blue sky, that wavers like a mirror reflecting the deep blue sea. Maybe quit trying to untangle the lights and watch them flicker in a beautiful mass of uncertainty. Maybe quit wrestling with your exhaustion and lay down with it instead, Let it trail it's fingers through your hair and rock you to sleep, And when you awake it'll be gone from your bed like a one night lover. Hey little fighter, I know you're trying. I know it's hard. And it's okay, to take a break.