letting go

Relapse

Posted on by Amber S Morse

I had left the tainted fragments
of my mind buried in the ruins of
my heart – I had failed love again.
I had twisted the knife inside my
chest, letting the blood trickle out
and relieve me of my own burdens
of loving poorly and hurting those
in the wake of my pending storm.
I was relapsing into a destruction
of my own making and although
I saw it coming, I could not stop it;
another day of destruction, another
chance at happiness if we could find
a way to survive the aftermath and
resentment pulsating from your soul.
It was just another day, and that was
the only truth I was allowed to feel.

Aftermath

Posted on by Amber S Morse

There was not an escape,
nor any sort of turning back;
we were alone in the crooked
shells of the world, holding on
with tethered hands and tired
souls, breaking insights as we
hunted for survival – there was
only a you and I, harboring our
love on mile markers and poor
gas station coffee, no ideas on
a direction, no actual plans for
an escape, just going and going
until we could pretend we were
gone, lost inside the disheveled
aftermath of a broken journey.

Daylight

Posted on by Amber S Morse

Hidden behind the shadows
where the night and sun meet,
past the lightly traced outline
of the horizon, where the eyes
play tricks of love and deceit,
are the fallen dreams we had
laid to rest, nestled inside the
buried limits we could not see;
where once dreams had been
kissed twice by daylight on the
horizon, growing in vibrancy,
are now forgotten by the fall of
dusk, left in withered remains,
bounded, begging to be set free.

3am

Posted on by Amber S Morse

I’ve reached the crumbled shells
of disappointment rooted inside
your kiss – we’ve reached tattered
remains of lies and discontent in
the hours belonging to truth and
I cannot fathom how we got here.

It’s the loneliest hour as I am found
beside myself and beside the bed,
unable to crawl into the comfort
we had once shared, knowing that
you will not be there. I am hurting,
always hurting and you never saw.

I will myself not to cry, for my tears
will go unheard, with no release of
thoughts or pain, so I simply refrain.
I am the loneliest hour, pounding on
the doors of my own heart to let go;
I know disappointment far too well.

Seasonal Wanderer

Posted on by Amber S Morse

We had taken a subtle walk,
watching the leaves die gently,
in the softest light of the trees,
feeling the wind kiss our backs
as we strolled on, counting the
minutes and days pass before
our eyes as summer fell to fall,
autumn blowing into the early
stages of winter, and the trees
growing bare, taking root in the
season, as we continued to walk
on, wandering and left waiting;
always waiting as time changed,
masked behind death and growth
as we all continued on, walking
and never stopping to take notice.

Fifty-Six

Posted on by Amber S Morse

I buried my dreams whole,
in the raw hopes that they
would grow, taking roots in
a foundation of reality and
bursting through fantasy as
an open door; carelessly I
forgot to water them, none
too eager to behold magic,
I waited miles away to see
the progress of dead dreams
on the horizon, when I knew
as a whole, I was suffering.

Sabotage

Posted on by Amber S Morse

I.
I sabotage my own happiness
as a fear of letting go – leaving
behind the struggles, the empty
thoughts and feelings in which
I had tried to drown, and saying
goodbye to my own madness as
the only friend I knew. I crush
my own spirits as I am afraid of
the safety I feel from loving you;
you hold my heart so delicately,
in a promising way I never knew,
with gentle whispers of affection,
adorning my once self-demeaning
thoughts with the aspirations of a
future of happiness with you.
II.
I am used to the bleak and weary,
the self-inflicted pain, fleeing from
all signs of happiness, but now it is
your arms that I am running to. I
have sabotaged all our days, in the
ruins of our nights, I see my faults,
I know I am wrong, please tell me
I am not too late.
III.
Before you I was afraid of all the
things I couldn’t understand, and
I let that fear drive me to depths
of my undoing, but then you were
there to save me, and I was afraid
of the glaring truth, that I could no
longer save myself. I threw away
all chances of happiness as it was
a feeling I couldn’t grasp, and now
I’ve become the master of sabotage,
wondering if I can find the strength
to save myself from truly ruining us.

Anchor

Posted on by Amber S Morse

I bled out all my secrets
in exchange for one last
breath, thinking beyond
reason that I wouldn’t be
the one to drown; yet my
hidden truths and subtle
lies were an anchor that
was holding me down as
the words rushed in and
secrets bled out, and my
hope for a final breath to
plead for you not to listen,
sunk with my inhibitions
as I suffocated in my lies.

Submerged

Posted on by Amber S Morse

My words were harboring
at the deepest end, only to
burst on the surface at the
first sign of light – fighting
a losing battle against time
and the currents, making the
words stubborn, unattainable
at the heart, as I was left to
dwell alone in the shallows,
watching with a half heart
as my words were the only
cause to blame, as I lay back
submerging myself in relief
and guilt, as I lay drowning.

Fifty-Five

Posted on by Amber S Morse

I brought only wildflowers
lost to the softest shadow of
a rose, expert in their travels,
knowing little of the leisurely
kind of love and less fragrant
than a promising heartbreak,
those wildflowers were all I
had – vibrant and yet hidden
behind thorns of another love.
I watched them wither away,
just like every dying rose, as
though no love could be saved.