From each and every part
Hope.
We hang on to it for comfort.
Like a safety rope.
Peace.
We breathe it in like air.
Like smiling with the wind blowing through your hair.
Joy.
We cherish moments that we collect along the way.
Like special times to look back on from day to day.
Time.
We hope to slow it down as much as we can.
Like relieving old photos & film again and again.
Love.
We hold it deep in our heart.
Like every minute of happiness is pressed down from each & every part.
BETTER END.
My heart was open
No words were spoken.
I was crumbling but
you didn’t notice.
My white flag
was flying.
My soul was crying.
I wish you put more into
reality than you do in lying.
So much has been lost.
You struggle to hold on
to the little you have left.
If only you were willing
to listen then.
This story would have had
a better end.
BEGIN AGAIN.
Don’t make me say.
Don’t make me speak.
Words can stick & you
don’t want to hear
them from me.
Hiding from the truth.
Like if you ignore it,
it will just go away.
That’s not how it works.
That’s not reality.
No matter how hard it is.
You have to stare it in the face.
You have to take it all in.
Only then can I really start fresh.
Only then can you begin again.
DO IT YOUR OWN WAY.
Perfection doesn’t exist.
But why do we seam
to chase it as if there is.
We seek approval from
strangers like they have a
say in who we are.
But no matter what you do
they will still be judging
from afar.
Smile enough and they
might believe it.
Reach your limit.
But never stop.
Don’t let the mask slip
or they will talk.
But wait a minute.
You have a voice.
You can stand up.
Make a choice.
They don’t know you.
You get the final say.
Make them take note
while you proudly do
it your own way.
IN THE DUST.
Twisting
Turning.
My insides
are churning.
I look at you
Through
bloodshot eyes.
This can’t be right
My body is numb.
Left with feelings
I despise.
You didn’t realise.
You didn’t take
the time to see.
You were spiralling
in the darkness.
& after the spinning
stops, there’s just me.
Picking you back up.
Piece by piece.
But after a while
you don’t just fit back
all nice & neat.
It takes away a bit
of you each time.
Until there’s no spec
of you left.
It will just be me there
with nothing but this.
But in your world
none of that was ever first.
Look! At what we have
to show for it.
What is there left of us?
A few broken memories,
cherished moments
held in frame
& you are gone in the dust.
Catherine Jackson
