A Theory In Heartbreak

One day,
Everything became dark…
And the sun refused to shine.
It left a vast darkness-
Of emptiness;
Upon diamondless eyes,
Refusing to break.

That’s when these tears,
Fell like stars…
Blanketing heartbreak,
From a black hole,
Laying quietly,
Underneath.

I think now…
I know how,
The galaxies were created.

(There are over 100 billion observable galaxies in the universe.)

 

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Suicides Door

“When one door closes,
Another one opens.”

But,
No one ever said,
That when the hallways got too dark,
-Creating spinning labyrinths,
Inside the dark corridors of your mind-
That sorrows pain,
Will reach for any door…
Upon any threshold…
Flickering just one ounce,
Of any God given light.

 

door

 

Still Learning/Bipolar Tendencies

I’ve learned,
That my sorrow,
Has turned me into,
Dead weight.

I’m learning,
That I need to,
Either let go of this,
Or move on.

Continue to lie still,
Or run wild and free.

Allow this hurt to define you,
Or let it continue,
To misrepresent you.

I think I’m still learning.
I think I have room to grow…
But one thing is for certain,
If I don’t pluck these weeds soon,
I’m going to rot away…

So, yes;
I guess I’m still learning.
But damn,
Wouldn’t it be better,
To live this life,
In ignorant bliss?

I believe I’m still learning.
(Am I?)
-So I say…-

Or am I,
Just pretending…

(I’m afraid.)

I think maybe,
I’ll never know…

 

 

Contradiction

It’s the little things in life-
The blessings,
The hardships,
The act to be still.
How it can shape you,
Into the being that you are.

Even when it feels like,
Your running around,
In a blanket of darkness…
Searching for hope,
Hating how hard life can be,
Knowing that the biggest impacts,
In this screwed up world,
Are going to be the ones,
That destroy you the most.

If you ask me,
Life is one big contradiction.

(And this is what confuses me the most.)

A Novel Idea

And there it was…
All laid out on a pretty table.
The men were always going to close their hearts;
To start a new chapter in their lives.
-Without me-

While mine laid threadbare,
Like an open display of skin,
Waiting for anyone to come around,
And to caress these time worn pages of mine.

I guess,
I’ll always be an open book…
And pretty soon,
I think I’ll start to charge a fee.

Who said you can’t make a living…
Out of broken hearts.