memories fade into ground up crystals and visible light
heat seeps into the house, past the glass and the blinds
the brain is fried due to hypnotic music and white sunlight
keeps me from going out where it's nice
is not the word; i'm trapped/
the insides feel like shit.
leave me here to melt; proceed thereon to put me up for display
what becomes of the brokenhearted? is the question of the day.
i feel trapped too.
ReplyDeleteyou are not alone dear.
i shall always be here.
i'm a lean mean rhyming machine today.
haha i love you helen!
ReplyDeletei'm beginning to fall for your writing, it's beautiful.
ReplyDeleteand the broken hearted? ...if you want to know the truth read virgil, aeneid book vi.
"those whom harsh love devours with cruel pining are concealed in secret walkways, encircled by a myrtle grove: even in death their troubles do not leave them."
or ...you pick up the pieces, you sew yourself back together and move on. we all do.
(i didn't want to end too depressing!)
xo
Your writing is just too beautiful.
ReplyDeleteLOVE!
thank you sunshine, tywo.
ReplyDelete"harsh love devours with cruel pining"...
what an interesting thought. but surprisingly enough, not surprising.
i think judging from past relationships with people, there is always a mark left, a memory, but it doesn't destroy me. (at least not yet)perhaps you are right about picking up the pieces and moving on. because i think that is the only other option left.
a million thank you's and xo's