EmbracingTheSky's Xanga

Saturday, November 07, 2009

Sat, 07 Nov 2009 23:38:31 GMT

Does anybody get it? Does anybody care?
That poem meant something.

I. Was. Raped.

And I'm scared and I need some advice so until I can talk to my psych, somebody, please, just let me know you CARE!

I'm Confused And Hurt And Scared

Mon, 02 Nov 2009 21:38:11 GMT

You took me
from me

when you were done
there were tears on your face

you threw a twenty dollar
bill at me
and said

There's a cab outside for you.

I'm so sorry.

And while you walked away
and I recovered
the ability to speak

I couldn't say anything.

You took me
from me

and I wept.

Halloween Poem!!

Sat, 31 Oct 2009 19:16:14 GMT

October 31st

'Tis the night of jack o'lanterns
'Tis the night of eerie bats
'Tis the night of ghoulish goblins,
Fiendish mummies and jet-black cats.

'Tis the night of screeching witches
'Tis, tonight, All Hallow's Eve,
'Tis the night of Frankenstein
It's a night of make-believe.

'Tis the night of trick-or-treaters
'Tis the night of candy corn
'Tis the night when zombies chant
And the dead are all reborn

'Tis the night of caramel apples
'Tis the night of misty ghosts
'Tis the night of Dracula's return
And longer fangs he boasts.

'Tis the night of ancient Druids,
'Tis the night of Satan's spawn
'Tis the night when dead things rise
And play 'til break of dawn.

'Tis the night of superstition
'Tis, tonight, backwards thirteen
'Tis the night of hags and witches
With a ghastly hue of green

'Tis the night without a moon,
'Tis the night of darkest black
'Tis the night of haunted houses
Where ghoulish fiends attack

'Tis the night of crawling spiders,
'Tis the night when dead have power
'Tis the night when demons rise
For the freakish haunting hour...

'Tis the night of powdered doughnuts,
'Tis the night of severed hands -
'Tis the night of vampires
Returning to their homelands

'Tis the night of apple cider
'Tis the night of things unseen...
'Tis the night of fear and fright,
For it is

HALLOWEEN!

Do You Remember Now?

Sun, 25 Oct 2009 20:02:37 GMT

Thirteen years ago, your eyes in mine,
Neither of us imagined that you would be
on the other side of my radio, singing
the lyrics that I helped you write
to millions of people, the message so personal
without so much as ever feeling your breath
on their shoulder, your warmth on their skin,
your lips placed so sweetly on their cheek...

They don't know your middle name ((it's all over my 4th grade notebooks))
and they don't know your eyes aren't blue ((they make you wear contacts))
and they don't know that you were my first love ((and only, if you believe that..))

but most of all, they don't know that your words
aren't for them, for anyone else, because they
were meant to be a personal contract, between you
and the sheets

and me

Myself At Thirty-Eight

Sat, 24 Oct 2009 23:55:30 GMT

She sits silent, with a steaming-hot cafe-au-lait in her hands,
sipping away the five hours of sleep she lost last night
while dreaming of a never-met lover's kiss...
in a small cafe in Paris, she picks up her pen
and writes down all of her unsaid words, some in
Francais, some not...
Francis Cabrel serenades her with the beginnings
of autumn and the reminder that she has no other to share her
echarpes pour deux

She watches as an elderly gentilhomme guides his
petite sweetheart through the front door,
a bell chiming as if to reminisce their wedding day -
that is how in love they still appear...
and they walk with arms linked, taking
all the time in the world to find a suitable and
romantic seat, silent in voice but exuding
romance, sensuality, and love with every dance-like
step they take...and when they sit and stare into each others'
eyes and she hears his soft, delicate, age-shaken voice
whisper ever-so-lightly Je t'aime to his amoreux... ... ...

In the middle of the most romantic city on earth,
inside the small cafe she only dreamt of
owning when she was seventeen and a big-hearted dreamer,
listening to a song in the most beautiful language she can imagine,
she realizes that she has,
against her own will,
dwelled on a dream and forgotten to live.

You Can't Deny Something Staring You In The Face

Sat, 24 Oct 2009 21:11:54 GMT

with my feet beneath the blankets
and my head against the wall
the dreams that tear my heart to pieces
watch while I freefall
into all the distant memories
of your words, placed with such care
in the perforated spaces
of my heart... I don't know where
to go, since you were never second-best,
so while I sleep, my memories
come pouring out my chest...

Taken In Disregard

Tue, 13 Oct 2009 21:30:54 GMT

I sit on the outside of another
somber autumn evening,
the silent wind stripping life
from branches in colorful
storms. The cold seeps
through windows, under
doors, through the insulation
and into my toes, my fingers,
my bones, even. I am a
human popsicle, reveling
in the crisp, sharp feeling
of the air around me, and though
the quiet speaks volume of
death, I feel completely
and irrevocably

Alive. =]

I Made It Back

Sun, 11 Oct 2009 18:35:00 GMT

Have you ever wanted to cry so bad it made your ribs ache, but no tears came? I put my life on hold for a long time. I let down my family and my friends over and over and over, but I told myself it was worth it - I was finally happy.

It's a curious word, that "happy." You can believe that, for all intents and purposes, "happy" is what you are when, really, it is the farthest thing from how you feel. You can smile your heart out and laugh until your face is blue without ever facing the reality you're trying to escape.

I gave up hours with my Grandma to talk on the phone...
she died in December.

I never thanked my cousin Jean Renee for the bowls she gave me as a gift for Christmas...
she was murdered in January.

I wrote an entire notebook full of dreams for someone I'd never met...
I've never even given my mom a whole page.

I'm plagued by things that I could have done, should have done, but rejected all because I convinced myself that I was happy. It was so much easier to tell myself that I was just trying to be there for people that really needed me, when the people that wanted me were standing outside my front door, waiting for me to jump back into their open arms. I don't know why I'm so stubborn. and I don't know why all my family forgave me for being stupid for so long.

But I woke up. My eyes were opened to the error of my ways. I made a lot of mistakes, but I made it back, even if I've got a lot of scars to show for it.

Bitter ((Sweet)) Irony

Wed, 30 Sep 2009 00:25:03 GMT

At an utter loss
For all feelings except those that
Cut the deepest.

In more ways than one.

Sit awake at night with all these
Thoughts, anguished memories, haunting me.
Wonderful bedfellows I have,
Agree?

Want to lose all thought,
Destroy this invisible torment

But all I can do is break down
And cry.

Surprise, surprise. Since I’m so not an emotional
Basket case, anyway...

But these tears aren’t the hot, angry ones
That have spilled as of late.
They are the ice-cold sharp tears of defeat,
Loss
Utter abandon
And nobody to understand.

What a cliché, I know.

But even the plaid lines across this blanket
((or the ones placed the length of my arms))

Can’t comfort me tonight.

My Secret?

Tue, 15 Sep 2009 19:26:36 GMT