i used to believe that buddhism was heartless and boring
without attachment, how could you love? feel?
you let go all of the time, like trying to hold on to sand, the way it slips right between your fingers
it lingers and it's all over you and you can't seem to get rid of it
covered in sand
get off me, get off my back
that sounds awful, right? feelings?
he used to say to me, 'you're just ruining the day, i was perfectly happy until i talked to you, why do you have to spoil the mood, leave me alone, can't you just be easy?'
no time for pain
letting go all of the time, i don't know, heartless
to love, you must hurt, miss, fear, rage. you cannot have one emotion without the other, that is balance, that is living
loving without attachment is selfish pleasure, admiration, maybe joy sprinkled in
you may experience sadness when they're gone for a little while but
you will soon find others to satisfy, other methods to please yourself, things are replaceable
people are replaceable
life goes on
and you have the capacity to go on
just fucking fine
but i think love is too big for that
love is huge
love is a hurricane
i don't know, but yeah, i don't want any of that now
maybe it's brilliant to be a buddhist after all
maybe non-attachment is freedom
your great escape
just sit this one out
She wears a crooked smile and walks with bad posture, she looks like she carries her problems around with her in a tight grasp too afraid to let go. Addicted to her own self destruction like it's the only guide to her survival. I look back at the mirror and see it as a grotesque image burned at the back of my head that I can't get rid of. What happened to me? I remember I was happier, or never this sad; I danced with my darkness but they never chained me down. I feel the forces of pushed away confrontation squeeze my neck to make themselves known. I try to grasp for the things good about me, but they lay on broken glass and I'm afraid my fingers will prick and bleed, but I'm sort of wishing they will. Indecisiveness owns me, and I'm swaying like my opinions. I grasp the fire burning in me, and I wanted to make it beautiful, wanted to make it mine, but all it did was make my skin turn charcoal black and my nerves send painful waves to my brain telling me that this is unhealthy and I need to stop (but I can't, and I won't). I thought there was a brightness in my black eyes but it was nothing but the smoke.
From the lovely @areadingwriter - excerpt from s y n o n y m s, one of the 40 poems in her book's third chapter, Forbearer.
Her debut book, B e t w e e n M y B l e e d i n g L i n e s is now available on Kindle and in paperback. Please see link in her bio. 🌹
you can never
for i am in the way
the moon falls
for the sun
and in the gaps
where land comes
to meet the sea
i am the earth
@astarryeyedapril ; our lives are interwoven