Memories :: By yours truly.

And I’m frantically grasping at the memories
as if they were the last bit of string entangled about my wrist,
to a balloon that thought the sky was it’s home.
And I’ve come up with little cures.
They never do.
Cure, I mean.
Maybe ease.
But never cure.
They pump through my veins, the memories.
Twisted.
Contorted.
Smashed together like atoms in a chemistry lab.

They are a part of me.
They permeate the marrow.
The muscles and tissue.
These things.
These memories.
I couldn’t tell you the last time I lived without them.
Who does?
Live without the memories.
We suck them in filling our lungs and they reside in us.
And we let them.
We breathe them out.
We assault people.
We assault people with these… memories.
But only because they probed until we conceded.

Our stomach churns.
Our lungs feel as if hundreds of tiny butterflies are thrashing about inside,
seeping through our rib cage.
We’ve held them to our chests, these memories.
Like a mother to her newborn child.
They are ours.
They tell of the skin reddening moments of anger.
They tell of the cheeks-raw-eyes-swollen nights of sorrow.
They tell of the bursting happiness exuding from our faces.
They tell of the hardly containable grief of goodbyes.
They tell of love lost and love gained.
They tell of our attachment to the places we’ve been… and never been.

We have carried them about.
Plodding all over this world we call our home.
And then we are expected to share them?
They are mine.
My memories.
But people grab and prod at you.
They try to get inside.
They try to understand.
But they don’t.
It isn’t their fault.

You cannot wrap your mind around something that you’ve never experienced.
And people wonder why we don’t share.
They say things like, ‘Kid, life isn’t fair.’
But you have never known unfair until you are ripped into pieces by your own misgiving.
Until something… someone you love is viciously torn out of your reach.
Until you’re heart is torn out of your chest, still alive.
Still pumping.
But you are not permitted to have it back.
And so you live like this.
Why do we live like this?
Dead inside.
You search.
We search.
For something to fill that aching void.
But nothing does.
All that’s left is an empty cavity.
A hollow shadow of what was.

Take a closer look at that deep canyon.
The hole where your beating heart once resided.
That emptiness.
That darkness.
Only One Thing will ever be able to fill that pit.
What will you choose to fill it with?
More importantly who will you choose to fill it with?

Not-So-Perfect. | Old Poem. (May 25, 2012)

Sick with anxiety she sits in her room.
Tears threaten to spill over her swollen eyes.
Her head is pounding.
And her heart is breaking.
She feels so dead…
Yet the pain hints otherwise.
Though she wants to confide…
The distrust is so engrained in her soul.
Warm tears fall.
First soaking her cheeks,
Then slowly dripping down her chin.
They tickle her ever so gently,
As they glide toward her collarbone.
She doesn’t wipe them away.
She doesn’t care.
She’s tired of trying to please everyone.
Tired of putting on a happy face.
She’s tired of feeling so alone, yet surrounded by people.
She’s tired of all the blank faces.
And judgmental stares.
She’s tired of hollow joy.
And wishing she were someone else.
As the tears fall harder she sinks to the floor.
Sobbing quietly at first.
Then she drops her guard.
She cries out in agony as her heart tears in two.
Sobbing uncontrollably,
Now gasping loudly for air.
Her family hears, and their hearts break for her.
Thunder rolls in the distance.
The heavens let loose.
God cries for His lost, broken child.

Old poem. “Once Upon a Time” (May 22, 2012)

They were the best of friends.
Everyone knew this to be true.
Life was a fairytale.
Always jubilant, yet still very frail.
They were not aware of their fragile state.
They went on with life not knowing their fate.
It was 2011 when the chill rains came.
That was the beginning of their brutal game.
As weeks were whisked away.
The oppression came to stay.
Days passed them by.
They each began to lie.
Rumors spreading like a wildfire.
No one knew a truth-teller from a liar.
Trust was few and far between.
This horrific future was not foreseen.
They were bruised and beaten.
From the gossip that was spewed from mouths unsweetened.
What happened to those once innocent girls?
Who are now caught up in this cruel world.

Old poem. (May 16, 2012)

I don’t have the words to express.
Merely a pen and paper.
My mind and my soul.
Scrawling vacant words.
Meaningless.
Empty.
Expressionless.
I crumple the paper.
Tossing it aside.
I begin again.
The blank sheet taunting me.
Mocking.
Maligning.
Afflicting.
Straining my thoughts, I wait.
The words begin to come.
Like a breach in a dam.
They flow easily as my pen wanders along the monotonous blue lines.
As I write my burden lightens.
My life sprawled out across the page.
The pressure lifts.
I reread.
I begin again.

One of my first poems. (May 1, 2012)

Mistakes will be made, but in time they will fade.
For a life was laid, to be the final price paid.

Suffering and heart break are part of a process.
One that is Holy and unbeknown to us.

The pain is real, and it is hard to deal.
How can we cope while trying to heal?

Trust in God with all of your heart.
And he will create a work of art.

Do not be discouraged when life leaves you less than encouraged.
But in all things seek him out, and he will replace your doubt.

Death of Yolo.

Dance with Him.

My Grammy wrote this poem for/about me. <3

“Innocence born – into a world in end-time stages

Precious, beautiful baby girl – given to our family – God’s pearl

Up against the downward spiral of friends and morals – disappointment,

hurting, far too many quarrels.

God – don’t let her be discouraged – keep her, uphold her,

let her turn to You

The world is such a trying place today – without Your strength she

wouldn’t know WHAT to do!

Let her know there still is Goodness, beauty

Let her know life will not be in vain

Let her know Your plan will always conquer

Let her know YOUR will will always reign!

Keep her God that she may know You’re faithful

Give her hope to know You are the way

Give her faith to stay within Your circle

Keep her God, and never let her stray.”

D.B.D 4/29/13

Please watch this and let it impact you.

“And if you can’t see anything beautiful about yourself, get a better mirror. Look a little closer. Stare a little longer. Because there’s something inside you that made you keep trying despite everyone who told you to quit.” -Shane Koyczan