you don’t understand me
I don’t understand you.
You can never see…
What I’m goin through.
I can always try
to get us above it all
But I feel like we
Are backed against a wall.
Because no matter
how much we are going through,
I don’t understand me.
You don’t understand you. Copyright 2020 L.S. Rockel
Love can be life to a dying soul and water to a parched heart. L.S.R.
I thought of you as I walked on the beach
Listening to the sounds you loved so much.
waves, as they rush onto the sand and soothe my soul.
I thought of you as the Holidays approached and how much you loved them.
Halloween where you loved those goofy movies. Christmas where we always drove around to see Christmas lights and you loved to stop at that store and get hot Cocoa.
I thought of the day you left me, three days after Valentines.
I never celebrate that day now. I can’t.
I went to your room and I sat on your bed.
I waited to see if maybe you would walk in
but I knew that was a fantasy that would never come true.
I went to the place where we placed you to rest
But to me it is empty and useless.
If I thought you would be here or I could feel you somehow
maybe I would come more often. But you aren’t and you will never be.
I look at your photo and I wish I could change that day and turn back the events so they never happened.
But I can’t.
Time does NOT heal all wounds. It only heals the ability to deal with it.
Love does not die. My love will always be there for you, secured in my heart.
I wish I had known so many things when you were here.
I wish I had known we have to cherish every day and every moment.
But I didn’t know.
I never realized or knew so many things that I know now but I only realized all of it.
When you were gone. I love you. always. Love, Mom. Copyright 2010 L.S.R.
Copyright 2017 L.S.R
If ever your heart should forget me, then poison not my own heart
by continuing to live an untold lie.
Leave me and take your new destiny with you.
Do not waste precious moments that I can use to sew up the stitches of my soul.
For every time a heart is broken it is the guilt of the betrayer
that causes the innocent heart to suffer.
Would I be broken? Yes. As only a heart in love could be but I can also pick of the ripped fabric of my being and sew it back together.
Never as fully whole as it was but able to mend the wound until it can heal.
As love is the very essence that drives us and motivates us,
It can also rush us into extreme thoughts and actions
feeling that without this one love we cannot go on.
But we CAN and we DO and we heal. Never unscarred but able to love again for rare is the heart that chooses to never love again.
Or maybe that heart was the only one that ever truly loved to begin with and maybe those stitches were just too deep to heal.
I know, my Poetry is off of the wall but it is mine. I like and write what I feel from my heart.
Have a great day fellow bloggers and friends!
Ah, you bring me such pain
such tense feelings
sometimes making me shut myself off
just to escape your madness.
You try and destroy me
you haunt me
you pursue me
like someone who pursues a possible lover.
You hate me
I hate you
But you are not real.
You feel real
but you are an emotion
brought on from tragedy of different kinds.
I battle you
but cannot seem to yet defeat you.
They take your heart, your life and suck your very soul.
They turn your heart into a one way street where you search for only them.
They take away your family, friends and sometimes…
They steal your joy, your mind and your happiness
replacing it with fog and hurt and pain.
They haunt you, they hurt you, they deceive you and
you don’t even know it.
They are your worst enemy
but you love them more than anything else.
The Demons Within.
I love to write poetry but it does not fir the norm.
Mine is electic, sporadic, funny and sad.
Rarely does it rhyme and it is not what most people expect when they read
As you will see when you read it here.
It can be dark and angry or full of joy (rare)
Because I write poetry usually when I am in a state of pain.
I write it when my heart is bleeding.
I write it when I feel no one cares.
I write about life.
I write about my life.
This is my poem about my Poetry.