Day 33

*singing*
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This song has been going through my head recently. I love it, but I wish it would go away for now.

Day 33

Memories of how things were supposed to be crowd my mind.

The way life goes is rarely as it was planned or preconceived.

I try not to sit and reminisce

Because I don’t want for things in the past.

I do want the ideas of the past.

I still want the family I tried to create.

I still want a job that I love to do.

I always find myself still wanting.

Every day I get a little closer to saying I’ve achieved.

If I stop dreaming, then I stop living.

I will always continue to dream,

But I’m ready for a bit of reality.

Choose

If I poured out my heart to you,

Would it remain empty?

If I gave you my everything,

Would I always be poor?

If I built my world around you,

Would my walls always be hollow?

I can pray, believe, and assume that the answers are no.

I can be misled, too.

You can be more truthful than before.

You can let me know that you aren’t here.

You don’t want to see me hurt.

You have no personal vendetta against me.

You have no feelings that match mine either.

You hate to be the reason for my tears.

I can pretend just as long as you can.

I can act like I don’t know.

I can wait by the phone for the call that never comes.

I can look forward to heartbreak.

We can sit together and break our bond.

We can build together from here happily.

We can be painfully honest with each other.

We can grow together.

The choices are ours.

Infliction

Pick me apart bit by bit.

See all the flaws I never hide.

Don’t turn away, though.

I want you to stay.

Your eyes tell me you’re already gone.

My head hangs in dismay.

My heart hardens.

My life…

Stop poking at me.

I’m not a dead carcass.

I know I look ghastly.

However, my heart still pumps.

Don’t ask me how.

My bleeding sores are evidence.

Stop trying to bandage me.

Leave me to lick my wounds.

A wounded animal will kill you if you get too close.

Your intentions never factor into the equation.

Eventually I’ll heal from these wounds.

I won’t blame you for injuries you didn’t foresee.

You have been absolved of all responsibility.

Let’s not create another contract to bind you.

The scars will always remind me of what was.

You don’t need to be in the picture for that.

To The Rescue

When people look at her,

They see the cape, boots, and stoic pose.

They stand in awe as she passes.

They envy her extra sensory abilities

All that staring and yet no one has seen her.

The cape that bears her emblem,

No one sees it damn near strangle the life out of her.

When she goes home and sheds the uniform,

Even he asks what it was she did to save the day.

When will someone ask what can they do for her?

The metallic boots with the two inch heel accentuate her long legs.

Every time she runs and jumps to protect others in those things

Her shin splints lengthen more and the arches in her feet fall.

The long soaks in the tub barely help with the pain anymore.

Who will realize that a foot rub would do wonders for her?

The stoic pose she holds while standing atop tall buildings,

No one knows it’s because the muscles in her back won’t let her bend.

Constantly flying to the rescue at any time of day or night is strenuous.

A good night’s sleep is never a possibility, much less a dream.

When will she get her weekend, or even a vacation day?

The lasers that she shoots out of her eyes,

They have singed her eyelashes that now refuse to grow back.

Eye drops no longer get the red out; they just get it back to pink.

Tears of joy have never fallen from her soul’s windows.

When will she see something other than tragedy?

Her heart aches and is empty.

She pours from herself daily.

She is simply super.

She is woman.

Refill please.

Copyright © 2010 Natasha Guy