Tag: Pain

Fairytales

On By rantandrave3In poetryLeave a comment

I lived my life with half broken stories and I have told half hearted lies.

I’ve limped along on battered limbs too afraid to fall behind.

And my mind has kept itself lodged away held behind the bars rotted and decayed.

My heart is a prisoner in a mirrored room.

Its locked behind the glass in it’s beautiful tomb.

But maybe you my starry knight riding to me bathed in moonlight,

You whispered through the keyhole to unlock the doors and thaw my soul.

But then you stopped… right there in the entryway.

You’ve gone no further but havent turned away.

You battle dragons and demons to hold your space, but you’ll go no further inside this place.

The confidence you started with has turned to uncertainty.

My knight that rides in moonlight isnt sure if he still wants to save me.

Here.

On By rantandrave3In UncategorizedLeave a comment

There’s a story here, somewhere buried deep,

of a girl afraid of what she’s seen.

She didnt know how to live.

She didnt know how to think.

She didnt know how to be,

so please be kind when dealing with me.

Thoughts are second,

and words come first.

Emotions are hidden,

and shes been lost

too many times and too many ways.

She will always come back at her own pace,

and she does it a lot more often these days.

So she’ll be back.

She’ll be here.

And she will be there for you always dear.

Someone.

On By rantandrave3In poetryLeave a comment

Someone told me I was broken.

I believed it to be true.

Someone told me I wasnt worthy.

I believed that too.

Someone stole my smiles.

I learned to hide them inside.

Someone told me I wasnt enough.

Someone lied.

My Stars

On By rantandrave3In poetryLeave a comment

I could be anywhere, but I’m here.

With you all

told we weren’t worthy

This the Island of Misfit Souls!

All pushed away, and tried, and forgotten.

How dare we show our smiles so blatantly.

How dare we be happy when they said

we couldn’t deserve it,

when we didn’t earn it,

when we were born wrong.

How dare we dance with the faeries

in their circles of light.

How dare we dance alongside our demons tonight.

How dare we to exist at all.

In this our island of salvation,

we found each other,

us fractured souls.

And slowly we mend,

and slowly we glow,

and slowly we fight the harsh words.

The cruelty

the hatred we lived through so long ago.

We were born perfect

created in magic.

Not to be what they wanted

but to be wanted for what we are.

And that is far more than enough

and as worthy as any star

to shine

and glow

and to be flawless in its splendor

only us other souls can know.

Memory

On By rantandrave3In poetry, UncategorizedLeave a comment

Going down

landing

in the waste land

of what was beautiful.

A magic land

where dreams enter reality.

A destruction zone

of lingering hopes

and broken promises.

Landing in the

remains of us.

We were magic,

now just darkness

and memories.

Unlived plans

turned into possible regrets.

This is my home,

where I stay.

My eternal labyrinth

of us.

The Space Between

On By rantandrave3In Rants, Uncategorized, writingLeave a comment

You were always the ocean. Strong and sure. Consistent as the tides. And in the dark depths of you there were wonders to be discovered, but there were horrors as well.  There were vast empty spaces of nothing. No light, no life, just space. Over the years others had ruined some of you. They left their garbage to kill off your dreams and your hopes. But still even then you were magnificent.

Then there is me. I’m the forest where the birds sing in the trees. I’m filled with life and constantly moving,  growing, and changing. I give to the world over and over again. Walk my paths and feel the ancient peace within me. See my mountains, my history, and my scars. See the places people have taken from me. Places never allowed to regrow.

And where we met was the thing of magic. The sand of my shores cooled to your touch, and there we were a thing of fairy tales. In the space between us, where we were one, was romanticized perfection. We were immaculate as the sun shone bright above and the moon played its glorious show over your waters.

Eventually though I realized you were taking from me. Little by little and wave by wave you would take a piece of me and bring it out into the depths of you. Little by little you eroded me away. You stole my being, my life, and my time.

So slowly was the realization that we were never an us. There was always you and then there was me, and even the beautiful memories we shared on the beaches between us could never mask that you wanted me to fill your empty spaces. You wanted me to make you whole. You wanted me, my beauty, my wisdom, and my strength to soothe your fears. Until you didn’t want me anymore, and you never really did. The excitement wore off. The joy of finding a being as immaculate as yourself, as powerful as yourself, and as wise wasn’t enough anymore.

Your waves receded. My trees grew tall. And the space between grows wider.

From the Inside

On By rantandrave3In poetry, UncategorizedLeave a comment

For days each morning starts 

with wiping away the salty river bed

across my face

Dried tears I’d never allow to escape

during the day

make their break during the night

I don’t remember them leaving

I don’t remember letting them go

But their path is there each day

Telling me more than any conversation

ever can. 

 

 

A Thank You to My Exes

On By rantandrave3In poetry, Uncategorized, writing2 Comments

It seems as if I owe you boys some thanks

Without you all and your flaws that drove me away

I may never have known what to be grateful for today

If you hadn’t answered for me assuming I didn’t know the answers and slyly dropped hints that my intellect was lesser than your own

I might have never known to love how he compliments my intelligence and my mind

If you hadn’t needed constant contact and attention because of your unrooted fear I would be as they had been

I might not appreciate his understanding that I’ll get back to him when I can

If you hadn’t suggested I be a housewife with a hobby to keep me entertained

I might not go weak whenever he shows off my career and the accomplishments I’ve obtained

If you hadn’t pushed your erection up against my back while your hands roamed and called it cuddling

I may never have realized the phenomenon that is my happiest sanctuary in the warmth of his arms

If you hadn’t tried to make me less, fearful of my confidence

I wouldn’t cherish how much he builds me up

If you all hadn’t tried your damndest to control me

I may never have realized how amazing it is to have someone who sets me free.

Someone who believes in me.

Thank you all, and I hope you find happiness.

I wonder what you learned from me.

©C O’Connor, 2018.

A Continuation of the Previous Post.

On By rantandrave3In observations, Rants, Uncategorized, writing1 Comment

I had to get up. I had to stop writing, which halted the flow, and now my fingers are placing letters in the wrong places. I was rolling.  My hands were doing the thinking and the line between mind and keyboard was so direct. Now I’m forcing myself to get that back. I went to the bathroom and while sitting there in that little space my mind had the audacity to think about whether this writing that I am writing here and now could ever make me money. I was thinking about happiness and how it’s been my main want and desire for a majority of my mature life. How much goes into happiness? Can I be happy living with my parents, because I have no money and no job and am trying to be a writer, while all at the same time hating my life that I’m living?

I doubt it.

It is possible, but not very likely. Those two phrases were redundant. Fuck redundancy! I will say the same thing in many ways and forms and you will read it! Or not in which case I don’t care really.

Back to the point. Happiness. Money. I don’t know what will make me happy. Sure I’ve been happy before. Sometimes for almost long periods of time and sometimes for just a single moment. The point is it has happened. But I want to live a life when I don’t have days where I stare out the balcony window and lose my breath and feel the tightness in my chest because I’m longing for something more. So my mind wanders to money while sitting on the toilet.

But who would read this? Who would publish it? Who would willingly PAY to sit and read a story about a woman who is sometimes unhappy and wanting to change that by doing… something. I’m not sure if I would read that.

I don’t even know what THIS is. Am I writing a book? Is this just another rant that will sit in the memory of my laptop for years with its only reader being myself? It’s probably the second one.

I want to write something that moves people. Something that captures their attention and forces the English majors to break out their pens or high lighters to write captions in the margins and underline the sentences, paragraphs, or entire pages that stand out to them for some reason or another. I just want to write. I just want to be happy. I just want to do something other than go back to my room and watch another horrible movie on Netflix. I want to keep writing, but I don’t know about what. I want living to be something more than waiting for time to pass until the next exciting event on my calendar. I want each day to be like that.

But how?

How?