Packed in vials sublime
Untouched pure in time
Their base Property lyrical,
Reactants, The Thoughts and Emotions,
To balance the emotional equation,
Poetic are the words omniscient,
Combustible the thoughts, fragile the emotions,
Cold storage processed, refilled
take my outstretched hand,
when you feel so painfully uncertain
when you can’t hold back your tears,
when you’re screaming inside,
and gripped by your darkest fears.
when your spirit is weeping,
seems there’s no comfort in sight,
energy depleted too weary to fight,
if you’ve depleted your blessings
and the box lays bare
and angels are no longer there.
If you feel you have no value,
to most you’re just there
just a shadow of a person,
can’t bring yourself to share,
no point in talking
to find a solitary place to hide,
shut out the noise block out the light,
lie anxiously in wait prepare for the flight
into the deep and endless night,
you don’t have to go there alone.
I’ll try not to falter or stumble
though unsteady shaky I may be,
we both may take a tumble
but we’ll get back up you and me,
next time we’ll be stronger,
though bruised well.
About how I lied and got away with it,
How you got caught with
Your hands tied and no one to blame.
About how it was over before we waved the white
Flag, and I know what it means now
To hold onto a sinking ship.
I’ve never had anything to die for.
I should speak about how I’ve never wanted
Something so much that I devastated it completely.
We loved in harsh conditions, under sun and darkness and
I don’t know how to talk about how
The love didn’t save us.
I don’t write about letting go as much as I need about,
Holding on, and I want
That to change.
I don’t want to write hurt just to feel it.
The next lyrics I scribble about you will be
About how I held on and how I let go.
It won’t be about your love, it will be about
Mine. It won’t stop me from hurting, but
It is how I make it out
Of my love alive.
what hurts because I think it will
Stop me from hurting. If I put these words on
A page then they will be easier to digest.
Poetry isn’t curative by creation, it is
Just confession. Still, these remedial
Lines are what I turn to when I am holding
Too much in my hands.
Right now, I feel
Like I am overflowing onto the ground below me.
For the first time,
I don’t want to write about what hurts. I want
To keep it inside of me and let it burn me. I want
To carry it in my palms for as long as I can.
About how we’ve said goodbye so
Many times that it turned into a threat, a weapon
We made with our tongues.