pain

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.

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.

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.

Fifty-Four

Posted on by Amber S Morse

We were only as good
as the lies on which we
would break,  subtle yet
piercing as truth would
surround itself in cloaks
and daggers, shielding
away the innocence and
hiding from the strands
of pain and discomfort
that break with the day;
we were only as good
as we could pretend to
be, losing ourselves in
the reality that our lies
had become the truths
that we would never see.

Verses in May

Posted on by Amber S Morse

I crave the pain that seeps
from my blood into poetic
trails of blue ink found on
the page, where light and
verse are clouded behind
lines of memories and the
subtle hues of white space
are begging to be branded
with the leftover outcries of
my mind and heart; I crave
the light of pain, when I can
shred through the darkness
in poetic upheaval, emerging
victorious, with pen in hand.

Not Alone

Posted on by Amber S Morse

At the peak of the hours
when the sun is refusing
to rise, and the clouds are
falling like ash and debris,
when I am hovering along
the outskirts of loneliness
on the edge of denial and
fear, I hear only a whisper
from you gently soothing
my own voice against the
rapid beating of my heart,
bringing me back into your
arms, where I can think in
fear, knowing I won’t fall.,