Lotus Petal
February 9, 2018
Brionna
I don’t really know how to start this poem.
I try and try and try.
But
I always seem to fail.
I am always asking myself to do more.
Never satisfied with who I am.
Or what I’m doing.
Tension in my neck.
Anger in my heart.
.
.
.
.
.
I don’t know how to let go.
I pray to the man up above
God hear my cries.
Taste my tears.
Feel my rage bursting out of my chest.
Help me to feel my pain.
Give me the capacity to feel all that I need to feel.
Frozen.
I am frozen.
He would force his way in,
Tear down all my borders.
Wreck all my protective walls.
My flower.
My precious flower bloomed too early.
Not ready to see the darkness in this world yet.
He danced in my pools of water.
He was intoxicated with the smell of my aura.
My body was his road map. All bones and curves guiding him to his final destination.
He stole my flower.
Tore off all my petals.
Left them to writhe in pain.
I am in pain.
15 years later and I only have these suppressed memories.
Forgotten memories of him.
Of my stolen flower.
Aging, going through the motions, but frozen in time.
Not knowing why am I like this?
Now knowing how I was. Who I was
Who am I?
Who am I without him?
Without my flowers.
Without my petals.
I sit today in silence.
Frozen in time.
Frozen since he left me to never look back
My pools of love dirty, muddy, contaminated
I gave him all I had
I gave him all my flowers. All my pixie dust. He drained me off all my magic
He had used up all my beauty.
Used up all my creativity.
There was nothing else for him to take.
Nothing else for me to give.
He left me.
He fucking left me.
Unworthy of love.
Of life.
Of laughter.
He left and what remained died inside.
I died that day.
Frozen in time.
Now tell me how I am supposed to live.
How I am supposed to trust again.
Living in this world that sees me as broken.
I am not broken.
I am putting myself together again piece by piece.
I say this part to everyone out there that expects me to love the same.
To put myself out there again
To act as though I live with no pain.
A stranger on the street asks how I’m doing.
I say I say i'm well.
If I could redo that moment.
A stranger on the street asks me how I’m doing.
This time I say, Not very well. Not good indeed
Picture their face. Surprised by my response. Please don’t ask me how I am doing if you honestly don’t care. Or if you don’t have time to send your blessings.
I am tired of pretending to be happy. I’m tired of pretending that I don’t live with these scars.
These battle wounds that have penetrated my soul.
Others are on the pursuit of happiness
Happiness is not what I am after. What I am after is far greater
I am putting myself back together piece by piece.
Please don’t be offended if I come off as closed off.
It’s not easy for me to make friends
It’s not easy for me to communicate how I am feeling
But yet I am up here today
Hear this poem
Hear these words
Hear the cries of my heart
The sad hymns of my soul
I am a soul
And I am not broken
I am perfectly unfolding
I am whole
