Brown Angel

Brown walking angel
Your hairs are your wings
You stumble yet always arrive
Around my shoulders
You’re wrapped
In my heart you thrive
I like to capture
You in my hands like fireflies
Glowing while fluttering
I’ll never reveal your disguise
Our tiny secret
Like our kisses
Under velvet night skies
Sparkling with hope
Bourbon glistening angel
With your wings draped and dark
You came down from heaven
Yet you shine like above the stars

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Be cliché because be yourself!

be-cliché-because-be-yourself
She wants to experience all the lives of all the others. She joins in on their hysterical crazes and tries to blend her mind with their outrageous ideas. She does the research to make sure she understands them and can keep up. She sometimes dives in too deep, and what for others was casual leisure, becomes now an obsession for her. That’s when she moves on to another group. One where she can fit more of herself in, one where she feels more parts of her reflected and understood.

I wish someone would tell her, it’s not necessary at all, what you are doing. You don’t have to conform to be able to be liked. You don’t have to try so hard to be still so unheard. You don’t have to sell your soul to open up your heart. You don’t have to be liked to be loved by people who matter. And what would you rather be, liked or loved? Disposable or invaluable?

The most important thing is to be aware of yourself and what you have to offer them. Don’t downplay yourself, be real and be honest. What do you see reflected in people’s faces when you’re with them? What compliments do they give that you got so accustomed to nonchalantly brush off? What do you like most about others? Chances are, that’s what you like most about yourself, only you have trouble seeing it in yourself, so you seek the reflection of it in others.

Go and experience your own life. Explore your own desires and weave your own dreams. Follow them, or write about them, paint them or just tell them to others. Inspire and have hope. Always have hope. Love and despair from time to time, but not all the time (no, not even love). Create and let loose. Suffocate yourself in breathing new things and drown yourself by swimming new depths. Be proud, be silly, be passionate, be noisy and obnoxious, be humble and forgiving. Be thankful and be aware. Be cliché because be yourself!

Stop looking.

He kept showing my only each and all of the reasons why I broke up with him in the first place. Every time we’d interact, he’d whip out another classic example of his asshole self, his selfish behaviors, his grave lack of responsibility, his inability to care, try, reflect or understand, his stubborn stuck up spoiled blown up ego and pride that he continued to hide behind.

So I had to stop looking. I had to look away and stop feeding the person that I hated he’d become with my attention and frustration. I realized only now that this person he was becoming, thrived on my anxiety and my attempts to bring out the best of him gave him fuel to desperately keep holding on control over himself.
My obsessiveness, I shall admit, must’ve enabled him to retreat from willingness to arrogance.
Yet he truly was convinced he was evolving as a person. But growth and evolution are a one way direction. You can’t grow into a littler man. He was becoming less of himself by trying to be free, while he already was.

Still, his life so his choice, his prerogative. But I wasn’t willing to stand idly by and let that happen to the man I love. I tried my everything to make him see and realize what he was doing and what he was letting happen, but there is only so much one person can do for another until it crosses outside of your jurisdiction. It wasn’t up to me.

So I’m not looking anymore. I’m walking away. My hands clean. My conscience clear. My heart emptied of dead weight. My soul cleansed from all the hurt and sorrow. No more of his drama in my tomorrow.

Although I might’ve been the cause and reason of all of this. I arrived in his life, shook it up and down, put pressure and pushed him, had extensive needs and expectations. It doesn’t matter to me anymore. Whether I did this, or he. I don’t want it anymore. It’s holding me back from being myself, from my own journey, my growth, my evolution, my becoming of my self.

I will have to learn to fabricate a future for myself that doesn’t include him. Give up all my plans and dreams. Start all over, again.
Point the direction of my hope on myself again. Put my thoughts and feelings on a path surrounding myself. Pray for my own happy ending. By myself. Alone, as I’ve always been. With whomever I was.

Love is a gamble. Always.

I feel like a tirelessly exhausted gambling addict.

Every time I lose, the stakes get raised and I always go all in. I don’t ease into it, I don’t wait or ponder whether I have the right cards. I don’t seem to worry about the outcome, I apparently have nothing to lose. Every time again, I believe this time my luck will have turned to face me in my favor. Every time I have my hopes set on the power of faith to work its magic for me just once more. Every time I get burned, broken and beat down. I cry, self destruct, mourn my failure, grief my own downfall. Then I gather my loose pieces and my losses together and reach deep into the infinite bottomless pocket of love cash that is my heart. Only to play again, only one more time. Always.

Maybe somewhere in the back of my mind I know that the house always wins and we’re all being scammed for the mere disillusionment that we could have it all and gain even more if we just play it right, if we just get in touch with that one stroke of luck. Maybe one day I’ll learn to walk away as soon as my winning streak is over. But instead I still sit here, betting more of myself than I actually have to give, just riding along on the hope, the wish, the dream, the faith that soon my luck will return. Or love.

The Oceans That I Drown Myself In

I’m filled with tears
That I cannot cry
Despite the oceans
That I drown myself in
Of fear and sadness
That I already shed

I feel more powerful
In my powerlessness
Than I feel in power
I feel more hopeful
In my hopelessness
Than I feel in hope

I’m full of frustration
That I cannot scream
Forsaken the will
That I had to try
Over my voice
That I lost in vain

I feel less strong
In my strength
Than I feel in my stride
I feel less proud
In my perseverance
Than I feel in my pride

Fire.

In the tired tears of solitude and abandonment, I find the grounds that will take me further. They will move underneath my feet, they will carry me like I’m weightless. They will be nurtured by grains of strengthless hope, prideless faith and vainless patience.

The deeper the hole I dig in this nothingness, the larger the pile of dust I collect. All just matter to build a path from, all leading to a way out. The black hole beneath, above and around me gets sucked into oblivion by the fire inside my heart.

Infinite and pure, unmoved and self reliant. It fuels from its own ashes, it breathes its own heat. It burns water to steam, it lights air up to flames, it cracks any rock into sand. Every attempt to extinguish, it diminishes within a heartbeat.

It will be my leading light out of this darkness, it will be the furnace I prepare my food on, it will be the blanket I keep warm under, it will be my weapon against any harm.

I’ll reach the sun, going from cloud to cloud, from sitting by the moon, staring in amazement, blessed by its magical shine and warmth. I will return this fire to its nature and origin, and become a moon myself.

Forever surrounded by and surrounding myself with, the light, love and life that is within this eternal fire. Always in awe of what I once held in my heart to then enjoy from a safe and respectful length of peace.

.Love/Hate.

The most common mistake people tend to make, is assuming that the opposite of love is hate. That you either love or hate someone, while actually, both notions exist simultaneously, in the same space, at the same time.

When you don’t have love in your life, you don’t necessarily have hate instead. What you do have, when you don’t have love…is silence, solitude and fear.
Fear of being left out, fear of living or dying alone, fear of not being remembered or seen or heard. No one to talk to, nobody to rely on, no sheltering arms around you, no shoulder to cry on, no special person to share all that you value. Silence in your soul and emptiness in your heart.

From this silence, solitude and fear…this lack of love, we actually have a choice we can make. We choose..
    either hate; including hurt, anger and sadness, following each other up like chackles in a chain, on a downward spiral of negativity, of hating everything and everyone, especially ourselves..
    or love; opening doors to hope, faith and happiness, equally following each other up like steps to a stairs, up to whatever we aspire to reach or become, believing in the good of life and being receptive for all the positivity of luck..

Two seperate paths with many intersections..
Love or Hate. It’s upto you.