We were something or so I wish to say. But I know we were but a momentary filament. A connection quickly severed by timing. An unwilling heart to expose itself sat shivering beneath my chest. I swallowed every ounce of fear as if an antidote for disease.
Shortly lived were we. Our light dimmed by insecurities. Our hearts never to spark a lasting light. Doomed from the start. I fumbled the bulb and upon my ribs it broke. Shattering to the bleak hallows of my thoughts. A swamp seeping with pity as if sadness will attract is an attraction for love.
What heart desires the weak? What heart desires the glum of a lonely soul? None, and those that stand preaching they do. Are merely looking for pity to fix that which lies within their own skin. But deny the remedy to heal.
Their hearts always given to another, never to please themselves. They walk with eyes lethargic to beauty. Clambering to fill a void with more sadness. Sadness till they can speak no more, there eyes hollow. Their chests of stone as they wallow for a savior.
Ignoring the call of their own heart. And darling, that was I, it was I who played the pitiful man. The one lingering in darkness with tears in hand. Strung out from the deprivation of love, of affection. And so I hoped your wandering eyes would have caught me.
Your heart love me and your soul speak to me. But I was foolish, emotionally twisted in a hell of my own. I fell to depths of my deep waters that clouded the vision of any who wandered to peer. Its mist shrouded my darkness.
And I played as if I would find you. Rescue you from the misery of your past. I wanted to play the hero and you to play the distressed. But truthfully we were of the same, but I longed for it more. I longed even past the breaking of our filament.
Long after our bulb shattered and we stood looking at cracked glass as the light seeped like flowing water. Our hands separated and our star doomed to the recesses of empty darkness. Our separation was guaranteed for my pitied eyes and my insecurities murdered love all of mine.
What a fool some be, such as I. Sullied in somber moods as if that truly appeal to the lasting hearts. A romantic shade of black, coaxing the soul to fall. And I sung its tune with hope to ensnare any, to capture the broken, as was I.
Feast with succulence of falling suffering and abridge two hell's. Converging with fiery collisions. Leaving charred memories as quickly as they were made. A sick want to lay desolation upon two hearts. To blame with ferocious tongues that is was them, the world, the people around me that had marred me so.
That buried me to madness. It was them, all of them, but it was not I to blame, nor I wishing to be of shame. For I thought perfection was my attire. And in such ways of thought I cried out and cast curses at every path that was laid before me. I was a devil dressed in the cloth of man. But I have exorcised such a demon and now walk with vigor, with purpose, and confidence to love again.
What insecurities ripped you from your chance at something great?
We are more than what was yesterday, A Man's Traveled Heart
Coming soon, The Bleeding of Words
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