Posted in fragments, life, Poems, story, thoughts

oblivious ( i gave you…)

” I think I just might hate you for peeling away everything I thought I knew –but — but how would I know, after all, I live in deceit.”

He stands, stretching his legs. Oblivious.Goes on another day. Oblivious.There is always work to be done and dreams to be caught.

There is always the sweet kiss of oblivion

against your ruined skin.

I think I just might  love you

for stripping away everything I thought was there to protect me from going after the power of flesh.

And was this just another game for me

and another life lesson for you.

I am always wishing you all the best

and letting you hold your hand to my throat

while I cry and try to help you all the more.

Maybe I am better off admitting that I was never here to heal you

for how can I heal you when all I do is hurt?

Why am I always chasing after people who only spit in my face and tatter my skirt?

I gave you my words.

I gave you my mind.

I gave you my heart.

and after all of that

you left

oblivious

that I had also given you

the only thing I cannot regret giving you.

-Eva M.M.

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”

Posted in fragments, life, thoughts

Reflections on my vulnerability #1

All things in their place and time

even the haunting notion of forgiveness

because, I think, we both lost ourselves in the intensity of sensuality.”

I sit, saying to myself, cupping my fist in my fist, clasping my fingers around my pale knuckles and clenching.Some wind runs itself through my spine. A wicked bird streaks itself across the silent spring sky. Blue.In the distance, the moment is dismembered by the bladed cackle of an ambulance wailing against my blank canvas. I lift my legs from the earth and curl my arms around my knees to shield them from seeing. I watch and the sky murmurs.Blue. I was told in the adrenaline of vibrant and rough-hewn conversation that I am vulnerable.Those words both the razor to my skin and the stitches that will heal me once again. The mundaneness of hunger, its casual indifference towards sorrow, reminds me that I am still alive. Alive but I am fear. A mother walks by pushing a stroller, glancing over at me nervously. Does she see my feathers fall from my perch? I unravel myself, stepping onto the paved park path. “Move forward.” I say to myself. I am resolved. I have forgiven you though I can not yet forgive myself. I walk home next to that algae covered blue.

All things in their time and place.

All things are given their due.

-Eva M.M.

Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”

Posted in fragments, life, thoughts

The fool

The question being:

was I playing myself the fool

or

am I playing myself the fool?

-Eva M.M.

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”

Posted in fragments

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SO the following fragment is actually something I wrote in 2013 when I was like 14, so if you think it is really subpar of a thought, that is because I wasn’t as developed of a writer as I would like to at least think I am now. Never the less, I feel like it is beautiful in its own way and that it is very much on my mind nowadays as it was then.

Home

It seems all was easier then.

The wind would swallow us and we would let it.We loved its breeze and it loved us back, you could tell by the way it grazed your skin.Most people would not believe that the wind was capable of loving men but it loved us, I was sure of this more than ever as I had to leave it once again. It seemed that things would never be so sweet, so simple, so perfect as they had been those days out in the tall, red grasses. It wouldn’t matter what I loved, what loved me, or what I needed…. I had to go to my dreaded cage. I loathed those city lights but the choice was never mine. I cried deeply as we drove away and I heard the wind wail in sorrow also.

-Eva M.M.

” Me and the pen, we are one. If its ink would cease to flow, my ink would cease to flow.”