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DifficultI know I am difficult to love;
I only asked that you give it a shot
I’m sorry you can’t persevere with me any longer --
But I’m glad you tried.
Take a part of me with you,
And know that in my own way
I truly did-- I truly do love you .
But I’m difficult,
And can’t always find those words
Until its all far too late.
One more person...To you I am just another person.
With my quirks and habits;
Wry smile and nefarious laugh ,
The shoulder to lean on,
The helping hand--
And poetic talk of optimism,
When times feel most pessimistic.
I am the sum of my flesh;
Of my organs,
Of two-hundred-and-seventy bones,
Of many muscles (say six-hundred-and-fifty-six?)
And about eight or ten pints of blood.
One of quick wit and sharp tongue,
Sharper eye and erratic thought--
Unfaultable loyalty and hidden kindnesses.
Sweet of tooth , old of soul;
A library-minded changeling
Belonging nowhere now,
To you I am just another person,
But once you were my entire world.
HopesYou hung stars,
Upon the bare branches of your hope-
Longing for someone to come by;
Drawn in--guided by your light,
Gather up those shared wishes,
That you no longer
Need to keep
Just to yourself.
ReactionI am aware.
Things around me-- within me,
The air, my pulse,
The flicker of a pupil.
The spectrum of colours--
But I cannot feel.
The static of the un-tuned radio
Then a burst of music,
The babble of a crowd-- or is it in my head?
The morning espresso shot--
Its bad for me,
But its there,
Still lingering bitter on my tongue,
Curling up my taste buds.
I feel heavy.
But I no longer feel alive.
Costume PartyPending celebrations and merriment.
I consider myself set apart,
Although the flow has pulled me along for your ride.
I paint a smile and down some liquor--
Donning a costume and pretending
That my heart isn’t breaking,
That emotions are not torn
And that I am more than just a convenience to you.
MigraineMy mind suffers from static;
Inability to focus.
Numbers, words, images, patterns-
All meaningless as they blur,
As they merge on the pages.
Coherent trail of thought--
The whispers all far too LOUD
And every light acutely too bright.
StrainedChaos becomes a constant companion.
But order remains the champion in this game of hide and seek ,
That I never realised was being expertly played.
The mental toll rising and rising-
Becoming far greater than the physical being can take.
Gut instincts uneasy;
Aching deep within bones,
And weary heart.
Perhaps the mind,
Or quite possibly the soul-
Something will break soon…
mechanici want to kiss every aching wound you have,
bandage your heart every time it bleeds,
and patch up your mind over and over
because not a single tear deserves to fall
from your brandy-drenched eyes
but this dripping heart of mine can only feel
and the healing honey words it flames get caught
in the back of my throat and on the roof of my mouth
so i only have these passionate guttural cries
to tell you that i care all too much
and in order to fix you up again,
i would need to tear myself to tatters
and trade all of my working parts
for your leftover, fading pieces
but i just haven’t figured out how.
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Bluefley has a gallery filled with artwork that whisks you off in to a Sci-fi daydream, and keeps you captivated for hours. Marc has been a member of our community for over a decade and has achieved nothing but success with his astounding commitment to interacting with the community, sharing a prolific amount of video tutorials and generally being an all round rockstar deviant. It is no joke that we are absolutely delighted to award the Deviousness Award for April 2014 to ... Read More