Hugs and Kisses

Hugs and Kisses to an era of Love. I’ve tried for what seems like a long time to move on. But since I got burnt I haven’t made any real moves toward healing. Instead I’ve in essence been looking at myself, at where it hurt, and saying, “holy shit… this is gonna leave a scar”. It hadn’t though; I hadn’t even let it scab up.

(Ruined Wings)

I was a newborn dragonfly,
Grotesque features, creepy feelers,
Decked out and eager to fly.

But I was grounded,
betrayed by earthly gravity,
frustrated, confounded.

Still stayed in soil, seeking to rise above,
I found a kerosene called love.

And my wings, so pretty, so rounded,
Were doused in noxious fluid,
I poured it on, effects untested.

My chance to soar, to explore the sky,
Albeit temporarily,
Was without a doubt, about to die.

There I stood with match in hand…
Not knowing such a thing could hurt so bad.

I’m not trying to move on from that anymore though… it healed on its own, without much help from me – verily, I think I might’ve slowed the process down. What I feel, it isn’t pain anymore, it’s actually a scar. I’ve been starting to kind of grasp this for a while now, but in truly realizing this over the past two days I’m giving it a last goodbye.

(Just What I Am)

I’m not sorry anymore,
For being a romantic.
I won’t stop being myself,
Even when it makes you frantic.

You might call my way a crime,
I see you wanting to condemn.
It wouldn’t be the first time,
But this is just what I am.

I don’t care if it scares you,
Or if it gets you in a panic.
It’s time for some honesty:
I’m tired of your crazy antics.

Like I said, I’m not sorry anymore. And no, this isn’t just another quaint ending, not in the sense of past attempts. I tried to move on before, but wasn’t really doing it. At this point though, I already have, was rotting in place between the latest ending and another begining. In this beginning, I’m holding a Knife and a talking Rose, Make Way. A Hint for the inspiration of Now:

I won’t stop being Myself,
Even when it makes Me frantic.

I want to be inspired.
I am becoming Romantic.

Make of it what you will. Self-pity, righteous conviction, sinful pride, a bit of humor… boundaries begin to lose their meaning even as I create them. Whatever the fuck. Limitations are only as limiting as I allow them to be, as ever.

(Written November 15th, 2011, 8:35 AM)



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