Melody

https://www.deviantart.com/art/Under-A-Full-Moon-s-Canopy-151631032

the song is strung from the rafters
harmonies hung in
curtains that brush my skin
as I dance beneath
their weight
it is the dash of moonlight
that stings my eyes
he knows, that wise
beautiful moon
he sees all and hears everything
even my damning thoughts
but if I cling
tether myself beneath this
canopy of life’s simple
sounds
bask inside the swell
of a symphony of
family
perhaps this game
of hide
and seek
can continue
maybe I can evade
his violent gaze
and dance
to my melody
another
day
turn it up
louder than my fear
and watch me
escape
myself

Advertisements

Drain

Hiding behind

The thick black line, coated lashes

Masking puffy lids

Sheet of hair, brushed to a sheen

A sheepish smile, signature grin

And this coat of capability

That I use as an

Invisibility cloak

You never see me

Fighting my demons

Waging war for an unwanted life

You only see the smile

And you believe

That it’s the truth

You bask in my responsibility

While I bleed under the blade of your

Indifference

Leave me be, let me drain

You can’t see me dying

Anyway

Free

There is a dam
Within
I long to tear down
The wall
Mask
Persona
Holding back a river
Of tears
That want nothing
But to be free

When they
Overflow outside
Of the lonely
Privacy
Of the shower
Or my kitchen sink
In the wee hours
Before dawn
Or muffled in the
Sleepless
Darkness
Of my pillow

Their escape is met only by
Disappointment
Or
Consternation
Or
Trepidation
Or
Disgust.

I ache for a reason
Good enough
To let them flow
Pain that will strip me
Of the defense
That keeps them hidden
Surrender
Which might allow me
To actually feel
To fully feel

To openly feel

Please
Tie me up
Take my will
Tear me to pieces

Set my tears
Free

So that I may finally
Be me

The wild

The wildness presses itself against every pore on my body. The inside, desperate to extrude itself.

To introduce itself to the world.
To be known, felt, seen.
To thrash about in the foreign openness.

Learning to breath.
Learning to walk.
Learning to live.

Tired of being taken out and stuffed back in over and over. The wild, in seeking freedom, is taking over.

It manipulates my very sight and breath, taste and hearing, letting me feel the world anew in every waking hour.

How have I lived for so long without ever truly quenching my thirst, sating my hunger, hearing the ever present truth, or touching…

Really touching?
Being touched?
Feeling what it is to be touched?

Obsessed with the attention, never paid properly, I’m impatient for the sensation of being the object of desire.
The wildness knows.

And as it threatens complete devastation in order to be free,

I no longer fear the uncertainty of that freedom. But I clutch at what I know, overwhelmed with the chaos of emotion roiling within me.

I cling to the present, ignoring the numbness of the past, and hiding from the knowledge that the wild within me is installing directly into my spirit.

I hide from him, because it’s habit.
I hide from them, because it’s natural.
I hide from you, because. . .

The wild awoke beneath your stare, the beast became within this creation I built for you, the inside turned outside purely because of your presence.

And as I cling to the covers, hiding from the dark and begging the light to return, like the scared little girl I’ve always been, I simply do not know how to stop.

Instinctually, I hide.

From my wild.

But still, I call to the beast within…

Unlocked

those locks by woelkchen-chan via DeviantArt.com
those locks by woelkchen-chan via DeviantArt.com

A loud click awakened me, and I felt everything change.

A familiar scent filled the air, but I couldn’t place it. The sun warmed my skin.

I blinked, trying to adjust to the light. But it filled me with anxious energy.

“There you are.”
“What? Am I free?”
“I’ve unlocked you.”

My hands shook. Oxygen seemed scarce. His voice…

“Come. No more hiding.”

Stumbling forward, I thought I recognized freedom, almost forgetting the prison at my back.

“You unlocked me?”

I stared at my rescuer, smiling.

But as I looked around, I felt my face fall.

“Freedom isn’t so simple.”

The above piece is for a Chuck Wendig writing prompt at http://terribleminds.com. I’m very excited because it clocks in at exactly 100 words! Those who know me well know just how difficult that was! 😛

Hiding

image

She stands in the hall, unseen, unheard.
Like a child. Frightened with no reason. Intimidated by no-one but herself. Swallowing back tears and trying, painfully, to somehow stuff down the fear.

He sits, still and silent. He knows she’s there, just out of sight. He wishes he had whatever it is she needs to open up and let him see.

If he goes to her though, she will run. She will smile and pretend. He knows her. He’s seen her do it a thousand times. He understands why she locks herself in a bottle, because he does it as well.

If he pushes, the cork will become wedged, and nothing will budge it until the pressure becomes too much. Only downward force could change that.

He knows that’s exactly what she’d like him to do. To drill out the cork, smash her bottle, force her open. But, he cannot bring himself to break her.

She needs to open on her own. To release the cork from within. To surrender without coercion.

He watches quietly as she rounds the corner. She glances up at him, making her way quickly into the room, but pulling her gaze down as she kneels before him, and lays her cheek on his knee.

He sits for a moment, wishing he had all the answers, wondering if he’ll ever understand his girl. His sweet wife.

Remembering her need for his touch, his hand lifts to stroke her and his fingers slip into her silky tresses.

She sighs, and her body relaxes. He moves his other hand to shift her so he might see her face. As he does, he watches a tear escape and brushes it away with his thumb.

He stares at her and she gazes up at him, into his eyes. She remains mute, but he knows. He sees her.

“Thank you for not hiding,” he whispers as his fingers weave through her hair.

She exhales slowly, and her eyes clear.

Perhaps this is all she needed.

His patience will help her find her voice. They are, after all, the same bottle. Just with different contents.

Undoubtedly, he will find a way to return her true smile. His way. He knows her, knows what’s under the cork. He sees her, even if the glass is cloudy.

He feels her surrender. And eventually, he will find a way to properly use it. To combine the contents of their bottles. To become one.

He’s sure that is what she wants more than anything. To be part of a whole, to be part of him.

If she can stop hiding, so can he. And perhaps he can break both of their bottles, permanently.