When?

Numbness is cloaking my soul

once full of love and laughter

now I see ghosts of those feelings- fast and fleeting

they are not really mine to hold any longer

 

When I close my eyes, I see the brightness that once was

Now I see images in shades and shadows

Sometimes I wish to be in total darkness,

that perhaps would be easier to bear

 

But even in darkness

I know there will be memories

images like the light which

bleeds thru the drawn drapes

 

I struggle with the silence which is us

it is not the absence of noise

There is noise aplenty in our lives

but the silence I feel is deafening

 

At times I long to fill the silence

with shouts, with cries

but the thought occurs to me

would you hear them anyway?

 

Some days I embrace the silence

filling it with images and sounds of the past

it fills the quiet - but feels empty and faded

my mind not truly able to fool my soul

 

It leaves me drained

who is it I see in my mind's eye?

Is it me? Was that me- what has happened

am I really that faded by the passage of time?

 

I know if I cut the ties

My soul, my heart will bleed

what of those who will watch

powerless in this

 

Can I endure the silence

warming myself with faded memories

small bits of hope

truly will I have the strength to cope?

 

Can I be sastified with half measures

can we create a bridge together

leading to a divided path

can I be happy with only half

 

The answers are abit hazy

as my memories are lazy

the course I must choose

but I must think clearly - there is much to lose

 

But then as I am fading away

wishing there was something easier

not knowing, fearing, longing, desiring

it is also a price to pay

 

For now I embrace the numbness

letting myself fade

sinking in silence

telling myself - be not afraid.

Reviews

[BlakeL79]

Your way with metaphors is amazing. Not to mention the blending of freestyle and verse. I wish I could move the words the way you do; they blend so well without sounding forced. I appreciate that the subject is using memories as kindling to try to relight a long extinguished flame.

The end is sad however. It's as if the person knows what's wrong but feels powerless to fix it. In fact they embrace the numbness instead of fighting it, even though the subject knows that there is something profoundly wrong with the situation.

This reminds me of why I write. I never want to lose the passion I have for living, it took too long to find again. I would fight the numbness. Excellent work.