Apology

You greeted me with open arms,

Happy to have a companion in this world.

At times, joy arose like a flame

That attracted moths with its light.

The image was perfect.

 

You would rise in fury

When the last of what should have been yours

Was left devoured

Or if I broke something by accident.

It upset you, so I apologized,

And then the joyful atmosphere resumed.

 

Sometimes, I get tired and weary,

And so I sigh to relieve the tension.

Or I try to defend my innocence

During a debacle.

 

That draws ire from you, apparently,

So you mock my voice,

Something that happens in arguments

Whenever I try to defend myself.

I apologize for my actions,

And my behavior is changed for the better.

 

The images of hands playing with its toy,

Disposing of its broken form when the warranty expires,

Violating me,

Are what keep me awake at night.

 

Your philosophy of being honest with yourself

Showcases who you are,

So unique in your flawlessness.

Henceforth, if I have an ambition,

A dream, a love, a desire,

A belief about a happening in my life,

I’m discouraged, for I am “delusional” or “pathetic”,

As that is not what you want.

 

I try to scream “no” to help myself,

But the word comes flying back into my ears.

Sometimes on repeat like a broken record.

One apology later,

One more “I’m always wrong” later,

and your back to contentment,

And I, delusional as I am, am losing a piece of myself.

So long as it means stability.

 

Eventually, the warranty expires,

And you dispose of me and my pieces.

Other hands try to explore my mind,

But I manage to escape into the open.

 

Those who try to drag me into the darkness

Claim purity and innocence.

I can’t attack them myself,

Not because of their purity,

But to preserve that

Which still holds me

In one piece.

 

The pieces, surprisingly,

Are resilient,

Despite hanging on to each other

By possibly a spaghetti noodle.

I find myself a little more wary,

But time permits me

To see the light of others

A little more clearly each day.

 

Despite the shadows,

I can feel the joy returning,

My body healing itself.

 

I’m not sorry.

 

 

 

 

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Runner’s High

The bitter cold stings and whips

Against your skin

As your feet blaze

Through the terrain.

The high is in full throttle,

And you’re savoring every second

Of this bliss.

 

The beginning wasn’t too unpleasant,

But now this euphoria

Of energy and joy

Comes unbridled,

And, for a moment,

You catch a glimpse

Of Nirvana.

 

The sprint having reached

A steady rhythm and pace,

You carry on

To maintain this pleasure,

This perfection.

 

Something cuts you off–

A lost and disoriented walker,

Unable to make their mind up–

You pause

To let them cross.

 

You feel great,

But now feel the stinging ache

Of tight muscles

Between your shoulders.

 

No big, you tell yourself,

Proceeding to try and regain

The addictive rush.

 

You pause more often,

For the ache of your joints

Have coupled

With a need for water.

You didn’t realize your thirst

Until inspection

Of a leg

In the dry wind

Made it so.

 

You have to be honest

With yourself,

But, nonetheless,

The end won’t come to you,

So you carry on.

 

The rush is gone.

The fibers in your body

Scream in protest

To stop.

The elements now in full assault

Against your senses.

 

You ask yourself

How long?

What else needs to break

Or strain

Before you collapse completely?

Before this hellfire

Takes everything?

 

Despite this,

You know the race

Isn’t over.

The end draws

Ever closer,

The golden ticket

To the finale.

 

The rush is gone,

Replaced with a new

Incendiary wildfire.

 

Yet, as if by a miracle,

You now find yourself

Finished.

 

The line is crossed,

And you recline

On the grassy knolle.

That first rush never returned,

And your body still aches

With furious fervor

Against you.

 

It doesn’t matter.

 

You soak in

The satisfaction of completion.

It isn’t euphoric, granted,

But the feeling

Of liberation

Soothes the body.

 

Here you are,

Bruised, scarred, and weary,

And still triumphant

As you slip into

A more rewarding satisfaction,

Surrendering your body

To a healing rest.

Into the Shadow

A Plague

Has found me,

My body and spirit

Slowly slumbering

To its quiet lull.

In my prayerful mind,

A void is unlocked,

Where the thing has made

Its domain.

A small sliver of light

Dances behind me,

Illuminating the abyss

But also a road

To follow its still, small voice.

Ultimately,

I choose the small sliver of light

Over defeating the monster,

For I do not desire eternal imprisonment

For defeating the monster.

Over its existing influence,

The light’s voice beckons onward

To a better salvation.