Elucidating Questions

How does it feel to know you crushed the dreams of someone in your hands?

To look down on them and judge them for everything and make the decision they were not only not worth your time but not worth gracing with your words?

Bringing the gavel down and judging whatever as whatever without ever reaching out to talk about it?

What was it like to know you held a life in your hand that merely begged for acknowledgement to make all of it worth living through,

And you crushed it along with the dream.

You watched it fall apart and fragment and break and shatter and all the facets that tried to keep it all together entirely alone.

The pieces that told their stories to keep time going so that tomorrow could be good for something so yesterday could have meaning.

You simply turned your head, chose not to see.

You simply forgot the name and erased me and moved on and I have to live with it.

Watching as the love notes and letters became self hate notes and self destructive whirlpools of confusion and doubt.

I showed up and gave you power over everything, immediately, I was at your mercy.

And now you’re waiting for me to go and do it, you know what it is, so you can show it to me.

As long as I live on only in nothing and knowing without knowing or understanding

And I begged you, I said I couldn’t take it, I told you I was breaking,

And now I can’t even get the ending I need to make it all go away, explained as a trick of the mind and it never happened and you,

You won.

I can’t even do that.

And I will never love myself, because my self lost me my one life line.

I will never love anyone else as much as I let myself love you. I trusted you to accept me, I will never make that mistake again.

And in the end of it all this is not the same step I started from,

I am farther back than I ever was.

You pushed me.

I never knew the silence could be so strong.

Silence is the best weapon.

Beaten down by the rushing of thoughts trying to figure out what it could mean

Destroys the mind of the person the silence is aimed at.

Destroys everything about them.

You are not even worth a sound, the silence grins.

You are not even worth acknowledgement, the silence stretches.

You will never know what is right or wrong because context will never exist for you because silence is the best weapon.

It will always win.

It will break down and destroy that which you hate as the mind tries to wrap around the expanse of nothing

Asking why in a torrent that will never ever have the answers sought.

Chained to the ground by the heavy, the chain of silence connecting to nothing but it is so heavy I cannot, will not, will never, move.

The question of am I even real? Am I creating these blocks or am I missing something? Am I being charged with a crime?

Is the silence my sentence? Could they not even tell me what crime it was before locking me into self contained nothingness and solitary confinement?

Silence.

Silence is the best weapon.

It destroys.

And he wins.

Trapped on an island by

What if

And silence.

The awareness that there is no one who will replace what he meant to me, and that I was never worth coming back for.

Wanting will never bring him back to meet me.

Saying there’s nothing left to lose doesn’t make him chose.

Don’t stop believing is a joke.

I am only worth the endless stretch of nothing between us,

That realisation chains me to the rock.

Bound to the rock.

He could have set me free, instead he watched, and then left me to become dust on the shelf.

Life goes on, like I never existed.

The easily forgotten, the brushed aside.

The realisation that I am trapped by the possibility.

That I cannot move because love goes to waste and in expressing it no one ever understands me.

Is it real? Was it ever real?

The constant assumption that I have the capacity to do the same thing all humans have the capacity to do when I do not.

He will never know the agony of realising how truly trapped I am.

That I cannot go that I have to stay or else what if and I don’t want to cause anyone pain.

This fucking stalemate that leaves me with no freedom and him with everything.

He will never know the meaning of just how much freedom I gave up for him.

That I could have been free to go, to finally know why,

And I can’t.

Because he’s more important than I am.

So I stay in the box. An unselected freefall into nothing.

At least I know why I’ll never be good enough.

Sugar spice clouds floating in a sea of darkening blue as the wind whispers into the night air.

The sparkles of a million unseen lights that blind only the closest, are the farthest as far as the eye can see.

In a straight line from light to iris the farthest any person can travel,

The impossibility of that exact moment, the moment of light years ago the farthest back the eye can see,

The traveling of the lights under the lights of so far away they are but a spec. But the spec of the planet we live on.

The farther away to be seen the more questions of what we see when we see it.

So much farther into what was than what could be,

A maze of before leading back toward it.

This and that.

Swallowing the pride of freedom, for the safety of something.

Taming the want to be free, so that the fingers that were pointed can be turned back.

I wonder, who that person would have been?

Pandora opened the box, no different than my own,

The box of every evil ever done, every regret, every misstep.

A wild heart that grew too slow, kept back by heartbreak,

Betrayal of faith too young.

Lysistrata fighting for peace by claiming celibacy,

In a strategy that would never work.

As banding together was never as easy as saying a word.

The strangeness of being unwritten,

The strangeness of a path untaken,

Love,

Is it something that cannot?

Never has nothing been for frightening,

Than the silence that follows tomorrow.

Torn from dreams as the alarm goes off. Desperately trying to keep them to remember something that sticks.

Images of a life that is different, but they slip away.

Worlds where the fates don’t scream it is their decision, but dreams make more sense than reality these days.

I tried to hold it all together, but I dropped it into fragments of dreams that never stay long enough to explain themselves.

I never know if I’m running or if it’s a nightmare, always fighting to make it something worth while in spite of the terrors.

If only I could run to you.

If only it was that easy.

These days it is easier to sleep and hide in dreams than it is to open my eyes and wake in the same place.

I don’t know what will happen, but I’m going anyway.

That’s all I know anymore.