Love Me… I Dont Know How

My fear is that I’m Loveless.

That I don’t have the strength to love someone else.

That I fear rejection so much that I’ll never truely open up to someone.

To this day the 9th of September in the highly esteemed year of 2018.

I’m a broken puzzle, trying to stop myself from scattering my pieces.

At least I can congratulate myself on the ability to make friends.

Someone that I talk to daily; She knows of my secret manipulative ways.

Allowing me to confide in her about my life choices.

But back to my opening statement. I dont know if I’m being rightly cautios.

Or if I’m barring myself from love. All because I have a fear of being unhappy.

Crying at night, wondering where my loved one is! (Hypothetical speaking)

Ducking in fear from my beloved’s, dagerous words stabing my heart. Tearing my emotions down word by word, throwing my past descesions at my face.

(Not to say that I would tolerate such abusive ways)

Refusing to allow me to repent and throw my bad tendencies behind me.

Neither do I want to tell someone all, of my wrongs.

(only for the fear of being judged)

Then when I flip the switch I want to be open, stupindously free; uncover my dark streaks.

I dont think I’m necessarily the worst.

But I hate my down falls passionatley.

Staining my pallet with bitterness.

Upsetting my stomach and causing it to swell…

It makes my insides quiver and ache.

Tople over and under.

I fear that I’m trying to wash away my sins so hard that I’m pushing away any potentially good men. Who are also cleansing their self.

(Not really just think what if.)

I fear it stims from my dedication to self love. Suffering from poor self worth.

My mind goes on and on with estranged situations and variable situations.

If I’m sinning, or struggling with a bad characteristic trait. Then not yet am I rady for a relationship.

Refusing anyone who doesnt seem to have the ability nor capacity to help, keep me away from my addictions.

So I just turn them away.

I don’t know If I can love another, or myself!

Crimson spell

Rose, in the evening

Scarlet was the letter.

Currant, were her words.

Blush, within her sigh.

Apple, was her iris.

Peacock, threaded tide.

Coral, upon the sand.

minty was the ocean band.

pistachio etched the sky.

Melencoly or blue was apart of her spell.

Rosewater,

Tinted cry.

percolate, rise, and swell; bloody rage,Garnet, ruby, fire now in her gaze.

Amber,was her name.

Crimson was the spell.

Scarlet were his words etched upon her heart.

Monkey, was the year of her lapis frosty lover.

 

Insidious

A craft, a dangerous point of view.

Still many cradle and hone this lucrative art.

Buried very deep in our hearts; some say it tickles and swaddles them like home.

A special place in their hearts.

Etched in our very souls.

Creeping up the spine.

Spewing from our mouths.

Greed?

Darling please, this thing will make you heave.

Succumbed to by many.

 

Oh, believe its bigger than you.

Insidious was the spell.

Encephalon, please learn to expel.

Expel down to the depths of hell.

Engulfed in flames.

Don’t even mention its name.

Power no.

A divine divination art many crave.

Pain and Happiness

 

Daily Writing Prompt - Writers Write Creative Blog

So here I go again trying my hand at another writer prompt and my own Prompt me I dare you posts. I hope everyone enjoys, as I muster the words to edify literature of the name of the Twenty-first century.  🙂

 

…Pain

 

People try to Paint a reflection of Pain.

The color doesn’t exist.

Trying to compare blue to feelings, is beyond its untruth.

No one can come near the color of pain.

We know not of his hue.

His pigment can’t come through.

We have not enough light receptors within our eyes.

Not able to perceive its richness.

Pain is unreflective.

Hence his lack of hue.

Pain, you want me to write about the color of pain?

Pain is the color of our faces when relatives don’t return from war.

It’s also the indescribable accumulation bubbling deed in her chest when they tell her it was her fault. And is she sure she did not consent to his conquest?

Tell the doctor you can not number it either.

Scream out to society it’s not something that’s from without this things starts from within.

This silhouette of pain shrouds every one of us from fetus to the grave.

Gauging out our eyes and refusing light to come in.

Pain ain’t got no number so stop asking from 1-10.

Pain is a shadow that doesn’t know its place, He’s rude, knows no manners, and lets not his host retain a somber face.

Hey, watch out, he can make you bitter, unreasonable, indecisive, petty, and unattractive.

Guess what? None of those are colors.

No color wants to color his face.

Pain has not a color, hue, pigment, tint, and or fragment of a reflection for our eyes to pierce him in his face.

Thank God we know not of his hue because if we did He may look like you.

Like you, Me, Her, and Him. Pain might resemble us all.

Again, Thank God Pain ain’t got a hue.

 

 

 

Happiness

 

Neither bitter nor sweet.

Beautifully in between.

My taste buds have yet to arrive.

Deceitful, or better known as divine.

My taste buds have yet to arrive.

Potent and always compelling.

Dazzled, by its wonderful scent.

I was told about learning and knowing of this taste.

Yet happiness is not found in this place.

My taste buds have yet to arrive.

Come forth, I reach for this gentle taste.

Heavenly, no it’s eternal.

Relentless in its ways

I have yet to savor this taste.

 

 

This place in Time

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Have you ever craved a particular kind of music?

But can never find the style that meets your current feeling.

This is something new to me.

I’ve always known what song, what artist, and the exact tempo to play to coincide with my inside yearning.

But as of late, I can’t seem to find a song, artists, or genre to agree with my current space.

I am not a one genre kind of person

I mingle in pop, classical, rap, Rnb, Country, and jazz, Practically everything under the Sun.

But as of right now I struggle to find someone who matches my place in time.

I know tons of songs, but none seem to fit.

They don’t eas my mind and make me think “That’s it!”

I’ve reluctantly come to the conclusion that maybe I’ve grown to another frame of mind.

Including the oldies, all the way back to the twenties up until now.

Nothing, and I mean nothing soothes my soul.

It might be “when you know more, more is required of you” type of phenomenon.

Considering with this feeling came my desire to start my blog and start writing more.

As well as my personal decree to stop watching tv and many other idle things, and replace those moments in time with informative videos, and books.

This is what caused my spiral into watching TEDx talk videos about self-love, how to achieve your goals. I’ve listened to Malcolm Gladwell books, Read The Five Love Languages by Gary Chapman.

Which, has revolutionized my daily expectations in my current life.

I now want more love from myself for myself as well as to others. I don’t want to live stereotypically vague. Working, searching for love, with an internal itch for something more out of my life.

In the moments of these feelings, I have times where I just have the urge to cry.

I don’t particularly think I have many reasons to cry.

I don’t believe myself to be pessimistic just realistic on my outlook on life.

Whatever the cause may be at least I think I know what the effect on myself is going to be.

A part of me does not want to completely leave what I have known and allowed to be my comfort.

But, then the other part of me knows that it will kill me if I never leave these things behind.

I will continue to lay in bed at night and negate the unwise things I let consume my time.

Which leads to my guilt of daily spending my time, resulting in me doing random things at night. Reading, schoolwork, Tedx videos, Research, all because I feel guilty about the things I don’t do in the day.

I want so much more from myself. And I can not wait for someone to come and hold my hand to guide me through this change. This is something that me, myself, and I, has to gird up myself and triumph through.

I know this may seem vague, but for those who understand. You as well should let go.

Let go of whatever you know is no longer good for you.

No matter how long it or they have been your source of comfort, your soul will continue to be dismayed.

I feel the beckoning to change, and I don’t want to criticize myself for not leaving these things behind. They are not the center of the universe. Let alone my world.

  • I will break free from this chain, even though its things that I have attached to myself.
  • I have engaged in my own persecution, mutilation, and subjugation. I knowingly submit myself to people and things.
  • I no longer want this in my life.

As of this moment in time, I am still unsure of the true meaning behind my inability to find music to my taste and be truly engaged in other idle things, tv shows, movies, and futile things, that doesn’t do me any good. I who call myself an adult, feel that I have to be entertained by primordial kinds of paraphernalia.

I’m learning to retrain myself to enjoy at all times things that are truly beneficial to my mind, body, life, and future. I no longer want to want tyrannical  ( pleasures) that are typical; teaching me nothing but how not to trust, bad stereotypical traits of men, women, other races, and even of my next of kin. Its no longer desirable, and I won’t succumb. Replacing them with profitable interests.

I felt that I was suppressing my desire to write, change my daily routine, and attributes of my life, which was a suppression of myself. Inside of this movement that I created, I hope it creates a stampede within myself. So that I will blitz towards truth and true betterment of myself and spirit. Which, will manifest in all aspects of my life.

This place in time.