November 2015

Apple In The Lemon Tree (part2)


But as it turns out I wasn’t a fish after all. Because If I did leave I would have left a trail of my broken pieces leading to a grave. I Would have gone a shattered piece of art. An incomplete painting on a canvas. And if I did leave I would have never found you. The artist that painted in the blanks. To sing my dry bones back to life. The Potter that made me a new heart. If i had gone,I would have never known that healing takes the scars away, that even if I can’t take an eraser to my past I can take a pencil to my future.
I would have never known that it’s not time that heals the wounds, but what you do in that time,  because I sat there hopelessly staring at my clock but clearly it was broken because looking at my wounds,they  were wide open. then you came and kissed away the seconds that felt like years,the hours that felt like centuries. And You held me, you held me so tight that all my broken pieces merged back together. You wiped away the tears and showed me that even the darkness has beauty. You were that gasp of air that reminded me that I’m still alive and need to keep on living. You placed new stars in my sky and the darker life got the brighter they shined. If I had let my brokenness define me I would have never known what finding love does to you. All this time I thought i was an unripe lemon. But meeting you showed me that I was just in the wring tree


Apple In The Lemon Tree (part1)

You fell in love with me for all the wrong reasons, but somehow it was my fault that we didn’t work out. You never loved me for who I really was, yet in the end I was apparently the hypocrite. Because of you the stars in my galaxy started to fall, but my vision was to blurred for me to make any wishes. The titans in my heart we’re at war and my whole life became a Titanic. A tragedy for all to eternity to know. And because of you i wrote my third suicide note even after promising the second would be my last. I wrote it anyway and it said ” Dear Life; I think its about time I bid you farewell, it seems we got off on the wrong foot so we didn’t quite click. I tried by all means to make amends but when I left flowers at your doorstep you left poop at mine  I wish I knew how I wronged you.  But nevertheless the sticks and stones you threw my way finally hurt more than  the words. You’ve finally won so while your on cloud nine I’m six feet under. Yours sincerely Hope”.
And this time I meant it. I’m tired of my heart breaking and hitting the ground like gun shells on pavement. Of walking with my head down so no one can see the tears fall down my face. So I quit this race and almost OD.  But in as much as life didn’t want me, death didn’t want me even more. So I was only 15 when I had my stomach pumped. They thought they were saving me, but all they did is rescue a fish from drowning.


I Cant Explain Myself

*sorry for the infrequent posting, I’ll be posting weekly on Monday at 7:30 pm CAT*

I want to place your head against my chest so you can feel my heart beat, beat the song of a million pieces, maybe then you’ll hear the words to the song I can’t sing, maybe then you’ll be able to hear the subtext of my lyrics.

If I placed your head against my chest, then you’d hear how slow my heart beats, how faint the flow of blood is, how withering my life is.
Because I could never explain myself, explain the sketched scars on my wrist or the sore bags under my eyes, I could never explain the distant look in my eyes when you speak.

I’m a soaked booked whose pages can’t be opened. Whose words have been n blurred and smeared by the salty sea that flows from the windows of my soul.

I could never explain the tears that feel my heart in the middle of the night, or the pain the strikes my soul at noon. I could never explain the nightmare that taunt me at night or the ghost that haunt me during me the day.

I wish I could, I wish I could live like the fair tales, where monsters only lived under beds, only came out to taunt you in the dark. But the monsters I know lurk during the day, the pounce on their pry at day break and sit satisfied at sun set. I was a victim of sheep sheep come home, only to find the slain beast awaken and hungry.

I could never explain having my fruit plucked before it ropes and the seed dry out before it could bloom. I Couldn’t even begin to explain. How I count the stars with my tears before I sleep. How clutch myself in bed so I don’t fall apart. I have known loss like the edges of a knife. But those are stories you’ll hear about in my obituary.

Because I could never explain why my back resembles a map of rivers, or why I shy away when you touch me. Life’s been a battlefield. And each day I’ve watched parts of me die at war. So understand I’m like a veteran and recalling the memories?

Reminiscing on what happened, is like turning the dagger that’s already stuck in my chest. So maybe just maybe, if I placed your head against my chest. You’d understand why I can’t explain myse


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