She sat there staring into the mist,
pieces of her heart floating around her.
I tried to pick them up.
I held them in my hand, slowly
repairing the damage.
Some floated away.
I worked, long, desperately to save her.
Though, I realized, eventually
I was trying to repair her
with the very pieces I had torn off.
The beginning of something.
The slow cadence of sound escaping from
a cold instrument, fingers yet to warm.
Random notes transforming into beauty.
Chords wrapped around the air
caught by those tuned to become aware.
So subtle the change,
but for those fortunate enough to attune
will forever remember the magic they were part of,
and the sound,
that brought forth their unforgettable joy.
I was your plaything, a cast off.
I gave you my heart.
You ran off with my soul.
Seconds slow down
Time intervals grow longer.
As night applies its’ long arduous shade.
Total loss of mind control.
Tis times’ fury against this restless soul.
The day may rise anew for those lucky few
Souls of others from sleep and rest they grew
But none so unlucky as us
Destined to lie here in painful wait
All too aware of our oncoming,
and sleepless fate.
Seconds trickle, time holds fast.
Night slogs onward for ever last.
Hearing sounds of endless night,
Time stands still while sleep loses another fight.
If the flutter in my heart is true?
You’re the one.
I knew a boy, flawless, talented, cocky.
I knew a boy, an artisan, musician.
One day, ran off to war to fight for a cause.
I know a man, broken, scared, darting eyes.
I know a man, haunting memories too layered to escape.
He fought for me, though alive gave too much.
I mourn a man I used to know.
I mourn for one, fighting for us, lost himself.
For our freedom.
In remembrance of Veterans Day, and for all of you who have lost or know someone who came home from war not the same person they were before they left.
I wrote this today for my brother, he’s home and has been for many many years. Though PTSD and multiple other diagnoses rendered do not help undo the hurt and loss of one we knew before he left versus the one who came home.
I hope you all have a wonderful weekend.
Had I known of your imperfections.
Had I understood your moods.
Had I presumed the slightest inkling of your constant drama.
I would still miss that we’ve only had this much time together.
He slid from the antique chair.
Down on his weakened knees.
Ornate box appearing.
Pleading eyes now holding onto mine.
Boisterous room now silent.
Thoughts flying through my heart.
His mouth forms the question.
Subtle quivering, words slowly formed.
My heart responds quickly and emotions well up.
Response growing clear as time waits to start.
She wished he could see her.
Not the clingy version, or the ‘too needy.’
The one who could see him.
Who appreciated his loud personality.
Who understood his tendency to assume the worst in people.
Why couldn’t he see her quiet as the antidote to his loud?
Or her needy as the solution to his independence?
She wished he could see them
as their solution.