The Dance

I always loved him, and I still do. However, there’s nothing more painful than being with someone whose touch you crave, attention you seek, and love you want, but it just isn’t available.


photo credit: kimbenson45 shadows on the dancefloor via photopin (license)

When words don’t match actions it’s really difficult to understand. I just started blaming myself, I’m not pretty enough that’s why he doesn’t want to touch me anymore. I’m not interesting enough to talk to anymore or perhaps I am not smart enough to understand what he has to talk about. Then there was the whole I’m not worth loving, all I do is mess everything up, I’m annoying, he doesn’t find me interesting or attractive so why would he love me?

I wanted him more than he ever knew and he kept me at arms length thinking we were close. It got to the point where I would ask to be touched because I was so afraid of rejection, it had happen just often enough that I was afraid to start anything. I no longer felt comfortable kissing or even hugging him, no matter how much I wanted to.

I lost myself in trying to be everything I thought he wanted, and yet he wasn’t ever happy with me. I never felt like I was good enough. I adored everything about him and aspired to be like him in so many ways. Instead my heart broke.

I wanted to be seen, but he gave his attention to others and wondered why I was insecure. I wanted to be listened to like he listened to so many others. I wanted to just be accepted, but truth is I wasn’t ever going to be. I could never live up to the expectations because each time I did the bar was raised.

I was on a never ending battle that I wanted so badly to win. I wanted so badly for him to just look at me one day… one time and really truly see me. Not who I could be, or what I could do, or what I’ve accomplished, but see me. Look in my eyes and have his breath stolen from his lungs due to the utter beauty of what he saw in me, just as I was every time I looked at him.

Instead I spent years dancing, trying, working toward a losing game, but all songs and games eventually end and so did the dance.

Broken Strength

The days pass by endlessly dragging broken pieces of the person I once was.

I am broken, as we all are, but my wounds have yet to heal. I reach for a hug to find myself alone. I sit on the edge of my bed knowing that I’ve put myself in this place. This has been my decision, a decision made out of logic, not anger or hurt. The pieces fell into place and I knew I needed to make this change, but I’m still hurt.

I feel as if my heart will never stop bleeding, especially as my boys tell me their own perspectives and feelings. There are moments when I worry that I’m being too selfish, but I know giving up who I am will not help them grow into the healthy adults I want to see them as.

I want them to strive for something more, something better. I want them to love and be loved, admired, respected, and accepted. I want happiness to be more easily attainable for them.

There’s so much I wish for when it comes to my boys and then I realize it shouldn’t be just for them. These ideas, hopes, and dream should be for myself as well… these are things my parents probably hoped for me and here I am.

A mess of a girl with a broken heart… a heart that spent too long begging to be seen and accepted, wanting to be loved not for the possible future person I can be, but for who I am right now. I deserve everything I wish for my children.

So here I am… tears falling like rain, alone, trying to make sense of the choices I’ve made. Working to mend my broken pieces so that I can love and accept who I am once again because the best way to teach my boys is by example.

Until next time.

Beautiful Fear

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Feeling more beautiful, feeling more me,
Yet still uncertain of where I should be.

A test of my strength every single day,
I don’t want to lose what I’ve come to crave.

Building me up, beyond my dreams,
Showing me all that I can truly be.

Never before was there belief in myself,
Something about you leaves me overwhelmed.

Lost in this limbo, a confusing state,
A troubled past full of mistakes.

So worried to fall down the same path as before,
Reaching out to the broken door.

Knowing the outcome of a broken will,
Forever I remain at a stand still.


My Very Broken Heart by Phil Manker

Walking around with eyes closed tight,
Afraid of the truth, afraid of the light.

Unwanted errors placed along the path,
A confusing decision with a forgotten past.

Tears teasing to stream down cheeks of white,
As common sense tries to validate what’s not right.

A touch warming more than skin,
A look which pierces deep within.

The idea that more might exist,
As wishful lies tend to persist.

Doubt endangers the sweetest folds,
Where fear leaves nothing but the cold.

Steps taken cannot be retraced,
For the path is forsaken and the heart misplaced.


The night filters through unclear decisions,
With twisted perceptions of fantasized visions.

A magnetic pull toward what is pleasing,
Forgotten feelings become highly intriguing.

Curious whispers fill the warm night air,
Feeling the heat beneath the questioning stares.

Memories taint an unwanted past,
As the dance with lies begin to amass.

Struggle to hold on to what is real,
Ignoring what others are pushing to feel.

Suffocation of the beauty within,
Tempting deliverance of their determined sin.

Clawing out of the deep dark hole,
The poison returns the angel home.

The Mind’s Torture

Moments pass and words are lost,
Memories fade and feelings cost.

Forgotten treasures bound by time,
Future measures, unforgiven crime.

Mysteries uncovered in the dark,
Magnetic tendencies creating sparks.

Lips whisper limitless tales,
Lusting over precious details. 

Dancing in a dimmed light,
Damning all that’s brought to life.

Twisting the knife deeper still,
Torturous truths slowly revealed.

Coughing on emptiness held inside,
Contagious demands filled with pride.

Screams of torment no longer heard,
Seductive temptation gently stirred.

Buried deep and hidden within,
Bound by guilt of living with sin.

Caged inside an unnamed jail,
Caught forever in an endless hell.

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Cold Sweat

Slip past walls with hungry eyes,
Increased blood flow, hypnotize.

Rhythms move through the mind,
The perfect pitch keeping time.

A delicate truth hidden in sight,
With dark desires brought to light.

Yearning pulls against the strings,
Resistance to remember forgotten things.

A shove back to realities well,
A pointless daydreams tricky spell.



Her balance falters as the gentle caress of passion slips from her grip. 

Reaching for something out of place, too far to be altered.

Persistence is her gift, a constant attempt to gain more than what is.

Smothered in memories of what was with a curiousness of what could be.

A single tear of frustration building behind a broken model.

With the assistance of time she flows to conquer another venture.

photo credit: Neon Anomaly Self Portrait on Rocca Calascio via photopin (license)


Colors spread along the broken wings of beauty as the river flows through thirsty valleys breathing life into the hardened earth. Flares of light pulsate, working to evaporate the juices before hydration takes place, before new life can sprout from nourished soil. Complimentary contradictions move through an endless battle of influence as existence fights over effectiveness, both molding and sharing it the alluring loveliness of nature.

Colorful Butterfly

photo credit: 918concept Dancing Lights via photopin (license)