So… I stumbled across a folder which I called “Unfinished”. It’s full of stuff that I started writing once but… you get the point. I think I’m going to try posting these unfinished pieces… or maybe try to finish them, I dunno.
Anyways, so I started reading this piece I wrote in 2011 when I was a heartbroken buffoon. *chuckles* Those days were terrible. I spent a month in my friend’s crib, smoking pot and writing sad poetry.
Anyway, so I started writing this, a few days after I read a poem on WriteHisWrong’s blog. I’ve said once that I feel like Julius and I get the ink for our pens from the same pot. I read that poem and it felt like I was reading something I’d written.
So I started writing (but never finished) this:
I pray that I have the courage to do this; as I type, my fingers fight through the tears that are pooled at the base of my keyboard, and are weighed down with the burden of typing out the words that afflict my heavy heart. I write, not because I cherish reliving pain, but because words are the only way I find solace when my soul aches. So if you read this and see lines blurred in red, understand that at those points I didn’t have the ink to go on so I dabbed my pen in the spaces of my heart left open when what we had walked out.
I play some Frank to calm the ocean that sends raging waves of pain flowing across the sands of my heart; washing your name from the places I wrote it, thinking it would stay there forever.
I wish I could write an angry poem. A voluminous tome filled with words to tear you down from this pedestal I placed you on; built from the bricks of mistakes I seemed unwilling to learn from. Even now, as I type, they trickle from my fingers like the solitary tear that runs down a heartbroken maiden’s cheek.
Memories are the ghosts of times we sometimes wish we could relive. I lived the times we shared with no ideas of what the future would have to bear. No fears for the past. Not because I had gotten past the past but because a future with you seemed sufficient to suture any wounds left open when the door closed behind my last love as it walked out.
I have no idea where this all started. By sheer will, you broke through every defense I put in place and replaced them all with a need for you. Walking right through carefully built walls and tightly locked emotional doors.