Erase. This. Nonsense.
A free verse poem featuring something too expensive to afford... even with money.
“You should see a psychiatrist about this, don’t you think?
Those hardships have gotten to you
And sanity is but the Devil’s wink,”
I say all this to myself, trying to be caring.
This game is a checkmate before the board is set —
But that rebel heart of mine is daring.
“You plucked it out years ago
Because it was causing trouble,
Yet you left yourself with no love to live for,
Entombed in a slab of cold marble…”
“…Tell me, Heart, then, what do you know
But I cannot grasp, —
Why you want what can never be yours?
I’m too fragile to take yet another blow,
To be torn into pieces by shame and remorse,
To invoke their disgust and wrath.
They can’t love me… or can they?
No, I’m ‘not enough’,
And in that other dimension, ‘too good for me’,
They must be with someone already.
Don’t you see it, Heart? Please, don’t make people laugh
Spare my dignity, I am a Lady.
There is nothing for me and has never been —
No one special that I can love:
Someone crazy for me like this world has not seen,
My Goth guy, us hand and glove.
Prove me wrong! Where is he? Could all this be real?
I’m so tired, no help from the gods, no more hope.
Heart! Speak up! Let me know what’s up with this deal,
Why the hell all I get is “Nope”?
I will take the pen in my left hand
And do automatic writing,
Let this message be the true Spirit-send,
What I crave I am now inviting.
…Are you ready for this??
“Don’t wait for him. He’ll never come, not in this life. You’re doomed unless you unlock the curse by honoring yourself. Love yourself and he’ll come running to you. Imaginary will become real. You are enough.
Stop scolding yourself. You don’t want to treat your children this way. Yes, still possible :D If you don’t waste your time beating yourself up. You need not a psychiatrist but a heartfelt fuck.
Men are attracted to women who love themselves. You are lovable.
What you think you imagine exists somewhere. Innocent copycat.
He exists. Let him find you.
Don’t resist him. It doesn’t make you ‘cool’. He needs to be loved just like you. He has no time for bullshit.
Blessed be.”
October 14, 2020. :D :D :D
About the Creator
Nica Breeze
I started writing fairy-tales before I could spell the letters right, at age 6. My fiction and poetry are about one’s private world and love-hate relationship with reality.
I emigrated to America from Eastern Europe, found home in Montana.
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