✍🏻 Abandonment

❝regrets do crush me flat❞

Why?
Before & After the split.

Sunlit I

Me and you were a real life fantasy
You and I were the destiny I’d dreamed
In you and your soul I found ecstasy
In your deep eyes and open mind I beamed.

I read it said that love can truly kill
This sounds far-fetched but I’ll tell you it’s not.
Since being forsaken I’ve been so ill
This ain’t hype, I’m tied in an awful knot.

Forsaken by you, abandoned at sea
Pushed to yesterday, by your doubting mind?
Thrown to history, I’m trapped, not free
Dumped in the basket, due to a new bind?

All’s not lost for after all, you’re alive,
in this cell, I etch: “Our love will revive!”

— Sensitive Soul to Secret Sharer


The moment’s monument

( 4, 4, 4, 2 IV–IV–IV–II )

✍🏻 I miss you

way, ‘way’ beyond belief

Revenge
bloodied knuckles & a cowardly lover’s letter, expressing his departing…

Limitless Infinity

   6 I look but I don’t see
  I hear but don’t listen

  I’ve never felt these deprivations
  I have never known such emotions

  I touch but I don’t feel
  I eat but it’s tasteless

  I’m literally not functioning
  I am but a dead human walking

  I breathe scentless flowers
  I yearn to sense your soul

  I’d give everything to be with you
  I would do anything to be yours 9

^∞


The Cloths of Heaven

from Yeats by way of me 2 U

Had I the heaven’s embroidered cloths,
Enwrought with golden and silver light,
The blue and the dim and the dark cloths
Of night and light and the half-light;
I would spread the cloths under your feet:
But I, being poor, have only my dreams;
I have spread my dreams under your feet;
Tread softly because you tread on my dreams.

W. B. Yeats

A while ago I profiled Yeats and gave a few lines of the poem above, I think that reading it as a whole is very much more moving (; profound etc.)… ^

&, here’s another. This is not about love though. For me, it’s somehow about being (stuck) on the shoulders of giants which is, I’d say, a mixed blessing; a double-edged sword (good for scientific advancement but an impediment to artistic originality — deference… ‘gratitude’… reverence… dependency… &c.):

Gratitude to the Unknown Instructors

What they undertook to do
They brought to pass;
All things hang like a drop of dew
Upon a blade of grass.

W. B. Yeats


XX. JUST ANOTHER NUMBER

  Tied to an Oak and Ghaf rack I abear,
  whenever weren’t love a thing to revere?
  It’s the heart of every sordid affair;
  was mine dashed by the whim of an Emir?

  We’d heaven ’til reality’s ensnare,
  there’s no fate worse than this heartfelt despair.
  Lost love lacerates, I hereby declare;
  you’re the sand’s one jewel, this I’ll not forswear.

  Stretched to the edge of reason I clamour,
  my heart begs you to hear its enamour.
  My words aren’t read yet I shall enedevour,
  for with lost love I’ve just them and velour.

  Damn these feeble rhyming lines, I’m too blue;
  I dream of your neck and love-biting you.


p.s.

mixed blessing
a thing that has disadvantages as well as advantages. — “Declaring the word love so late in their relationship was, with the benefit of objective and dispassionate hindsight, very much a mixed blessing…”


a double-edged sword
a situation or course of action having both positive and negative effects. — “Talking candidly about their darker thoughts was a double-edged sword in, oh so many bittersweet goddamned ways.”

I claw at

death’s door.

I don’t give a flying fuck anymore.

I may be an offspring of an ape or resultant of a tall tale to cover up a rape. Whatever. I am dead on the inside, my faith in the human race has died. My soul’s been sold out, my mate has left this coil; two was one now one is as fucking glum as a nun a none A ZERO.

( Yep the either or ^ is one and the same. I realised that after I wrote it but I’ll not be changing it. The pretences of a wannabe wordsmith these are not; these are the words of a tormented soul in their death throes. )

I learned a lot this past month and a bit and experienced emotions I’d only ever read about, I thought I understood, I felt I was able to comprehend and adequately empathise — I was a fucking agony aunt to the misfits that found solace in my company (I of course, I realise now, was the biggest misfit of them fucking all, walking tall and, downright delusional; a hardcore unwitting freak) — but I know now I knew fuck all then… these feelings, the feelings of love and the feelings of betrayal can never be understood unless you YOUR VERY SELF are ripped and gripped and totally fucking horsewhipped by them. I’ve been stripped, laid bare on the brimstone floor. The guilt trip is like nothing I’ve ever experienced before: the pain’s been driven right through my fucking cardio-cum-cognitive core. These ever preset emotions cloud ‘everything,’ they rip and claw and have turned positivity to utter destitution, golden summer light to tar black winter night: the future is now the past, plans of P A S have turned to perpetual heart wrenching nostalgia. There is nothing but nothingness. I can no longer kid myself, I can no longer even dream it all to be another way, hope’s been well and truly fucking had. All I had and all I lived for died the day you departed. I’ll reiterate, all I lived for died the day you departed. I’ll underscore my point once more: all I had and all that I’d lived for, died the day YOU departed from our ‘us.’