#tumblr prose
She became convinced that the measure of her existence hung in the balance.
That the complexity of her calm fell in the number of idle breaths she took a day
That her beauty was a scarcity of times that she glanced at the mirror without feeling repulsed.
She is fragile.
Picking up the broken pieces that were once amassed to create a woman. Beautiful and resolved.
All it takes for such a woman to fall, is the absence of someone to pick up the pieces.
And instead of being her own someone. Her own harrowing warrior.
She fell.
Cracked under pressure.
She was broken. And needed everything she swore she’d never want.
Searched for her own validation in the hands of another. And slowly wept; wilted away into her own self demolition.
She lived shadowed under a blanket of grievances.
They were no longer the materialistic obstacles that used to hoard her time.
The were deep and dark and ugly.
She’s slipping into a black hole of her own creation. In a list for validation to find value in herself hidden in the arms of another. When will she realize that she is the only person that will give her worth. She is the only one who can understand her value. And she must fight to be comfortable in her own skin and bones rather than listlessly searching for a piece of her, hidden in a puzzle of broken souls.
She is fragile.
But she will live. And she will learn to love the pieces that have gone astray, the rounded edges and the bitterness that keeps her up till early hours. She will learn to look into the mirror and be content. She will pick up her own pieces. Put them into place.
She was fragile.
But now she is found.
Pieced together the broken.
And the broken;
Now forever bound.
r.t.
When you’re gone, every rain drop seems to drown me.
Every shadow casts an immortal darkness
Every glimmer of light seems to scald me.
When you’re gone, all the seasons happen at once and I am both hot and cold. Burning from the absence of your cool composure to soothe me. Freezing without the warmth of your smile to relieve me.
When you’re gone it is both night and day. I am a child scared to death of the darkness cowering in the corner trying to separate myself from the dark that your shining eyes used to transcend. In the daylight I struggle to steer clear of the scalding sun that used to be overshadowed by your cool and calming demeanor. Keeping me under a shadow of clear and blissful protection.
When you are here I am the blooming daisies of spring. Painting a portrait in a brisk and bright meadow. I am a Popsicle melting in the summer heat bright and sweet. A leaf painted with the pigments of fall, gently fluttering to the earth below. The first snowfall of winter crisp and refreshing. A piece of magic a mystery for the mindful eyes of a child sitting idly by the window.
When you are gone I am the thunderstorms that haunt the spring. My tears drench the daisies and leave them suffocated without light. I am the summer child left to stare at my melted ice treat. Left only to be covered in a sticky situation and scolded by my mother who told me not to indulge in sweets before settling down to dinner. An abundance of leaves coving the yard. I must be raked and hidden away. Leaving the yard immaculate. Away from the chaos of missing you. A blizzard that leaves the world hidden away under a thick sheet of ice. Cold and punishing.
When you are here, everything seems beautiful.
When you are gone, everything seems beautiful, except for me.
r.t.
Looking for all the right answers
in all the wrong places.
Looking to find myself
in everybody else’s faces.
Can’t keep praying
for what I swear I don’t need.
Can’t keep trying to understand
a book I won’t read.
I expect others to see value
in a place I never do.
I expect my plans to succeed
though I don’t think them through.
Obsessive.
Compulsive.
Right in all the wrong ways.
Seems like I’ll be stuck here choking on self-hatred
till somebody stays.
r.t.
