Abyss, part II

so over Spring Break i wrote this kind of uber depressing poem that just sort of POURED out of me. if any of you are writers, you'll probably know what i mean by saying that, or even if you aren't writers perhaps... anyway, i leave it open to interpretation, although maybe it is simply obvious...


Oh dear abyss, blackness of my soul,
eating my emotions, leaving me empty--
how can i ever hope to fill you?
what stopper could ever end your powerful pull?
am i doomed to remain this limp, pathetic doll?

but wait--is that a voice i hear?
a voice... whose voice could possibly reach me?
he smiles--perhaps from something i'm not aware i said
or perhaps from merely seeing my face,
his lovely green eyes answering my plea.

oh, dear abyss, darkness of my soul
how quickly you fill with light!
how swiftly the ocean of his arms drowns you!
giddy and naive of such release
i grin and pull his lips towards mine.

he opens his chest, offers his heart to me
and quickly, greedily, i devour it
his love tickling my soul into ecstasy.
then his hand extends, asking for mine
but i hesitate--i cannot do it;
how could i will myself so vulnerable?

his hand waits, patient.

i take a step back, another.
should i run? would he let me?
i must, i must! i cannot sacrifice my heart;
take anything but my heart! anything, anything else!

i turn, i run, i stagger;
is that blood? am i bleeding?
no, i realize, my body shaking,
those are the tears of my weeping heart,
my poor, lonely heart.

oh, dear abyss, curse of my soul!
why must your fear doom me to solitude?
your chains hang tight, having never truly left.
he walks by, heartless, empty
and yes, i know, it was i who carved that ditch in his soul.

but still i stand, unmoving, head hung
unable to take even one last glance at the man i might have loved.

started a journal today...

heh. me and my journal have a bit of a sporadic relationship. it could be weeks, months, a year since my last entry but all of a sudden i just get this urge to purge my thoughts onto the page. most of the time, not all of it makes its way out, and not in the order i'd thought, but most of it does anyway, and i guess that's the point of a journal, huh? (theoretically) it's not supposed to be for anyone else to read anyway. just you.

and yet.... most times when i do write in a journal i find that the tone of my writing is clearly meant to be read for someone else. who? i have no idea. but maybe that's not the point. maybe i just want to share my thoughts with someone, but don't know who, so i write a journal entry until i can figure out to share it with? idk. just a theory.

although.... i suppose i may have found someone i could share my thoughts with. or. i thought i could. i used to be able to anyway, back when i used to just let my mouth say whatever 'cause i didn't care what he thought of me anyway. except now i do care... a lot. he's probably the one i care the most of what he thinks of me.... and i don't think i could take such a risk as letting him (or rather, throwing him) into the deepest dregs of my thoughts. i know some parts that would definitely make him smile, but what if he read the rest of it and just thought worse of me? or, even worse, what if he decided he didn't care about me anymore? what if he decided that i wasn't worth it? could i take that risk?

no. but could anyone?

ugh.... i just.... goddamnit god why couldn't you make people telepathic?