Alone, My Tears by Micoláii-Yomaris written Aug. 29, 2009 3 a.m.
At times I want to cry to SOMEONE ..
but the tears that are so deeply melded into the trenches of my
are too picky.
So they’d rather make their appearances alone.
And those that call for me..
They attempt to hold a special place
for me to divulge
my emotions, express my repulsion towards the suffering they’ve
possibly assisted me in enduring.
Only sure to receive what little,
I give them before I curse the phone.
Empty alch bottles. Swisher guts unused.
What one quickly scurries to when the fire and blades
of a torturous struggle bombard their way into
the everyday of a life…lived unborn.
Alive and still. I wake up and feel better,
but with a fleeting realization that none of the pain
and what’s worse is, after running towards
the darkness of that comfort,
I am back in good light and feel more torn than before.
More sober and forlorn.
Death refuses m
I thank it.
so the pain i must bear.
Numb to numbness.
I falter at the reality that i register no pain
and it hurts.
Because that’s all I feel.
That’s all I don’t.
They won’t see it.
My strength is my weakness.
The four walls I am in, here, oblivious to such width,
form a crawlspace.
And the air I breathe when I give in and release
into the world where they are..
have only elevated me to the very next level
I closely plummet.
And yet they look up to me.
While I imagine that what pours
crashes harshly into the frontal whole of them.
to inhale my weepings;
a tsunami of my convictions reaping,
so there they drown.
It’s fair they drown.
I awake from my dream of their despair,
and meekly confront what is and was always there,
reality sets in of the nightmare.
I can’t share.
because my emotions ask that of m
How will they come out otherwise?
I shan’t reject them.
Alone here, I trust.
So alone, i greet my tears.