Unspoken

I’m destructive.

Like really destructive.

Whenever it came to pain, the first thing I ever turned to were things that cracked me more.

I never knew how to deal with pain.

All I was accustomed to was the constant tender pain against my ribcage. Face against the pillow under the shelter of the creamy naval blue skies.

I made my mind run a marathon, thinking about how life was filled with contradictions and irony.

It’s a cold joke.

How they portrayed life in such an alluring manner. They painted an entire mural of sunflowers and rainbows only to have the rain wash the colour away.

Then what do I have left?

Tormented skies and roaring winds. Just the sound of the waves pushing against the shore and pulling back.

That’s the concept of life isn’t it?

First it showers you with hope and faith. It gives you things that warmed the bottom of your soul. It tells you that you should be happy, it tells you about the diamond stars and the cotton clouds.

like I said.

When the rain comes, nothing ever stays the same. This deceiving facade we have been living under, the illusion of happiness all robbed and dusted. Only to realise life gives you things only to take it away from you.

and sometimes the things they take from you leaves you a completely different person. 

I could never differentiate which was the worst atrocity of life? 

Never feeling the conclusion of a season or never crawling out of the pit of toxicity?

Life itself is vicious, it was an unspoken aspect we never touched on. Just briefly grazed upon before we moved on to deal with the fragmented mess we’ve become.

No, I never asked for this which was tragic.

I could stare into a pair of eyes and think about how blessed I was.

and the very next…

I was staring into the dead night, with the soft whisper of your voice.

There,

but I knew it wasn’t real.

That was the hypocrisy I wished I knew before I dived into something that only tore me apart, ripping me into pieces and leaving nothing.

Not even my flesh and bones.

I just wished I knew life was going to be kind to me and a psychopath, except I never knew the extend of its psychotics.  It was horrid to have the entire world in your hand and have it fade into the abysmal darkness.

Talk to me about it.

My heart is living in affliction still.

Still wailing in desperation for a solution.

I would love to see the meadows again. I would love to feel the orange edges of the sun against my face. I would love to touch the serenity of the oceans.

I would love to hear from all of these again.

But now all I’m seeing are the cracked lands, withered roses. All I can feel is the strong gush of chilly air against my gasping skin.

and all I could ever touch were the jagged ends of my torment.

Tell me:

how dumb am I?
to think this wasn’t the end? 
to think we didn’t quite finish
what we wanted to say? 

drowned,
grumpebi xx