How does one traverse the loss of love, aging, and loneliness? VJ may not present the answer but she certainly gives us a glimpse of how real it can get.
Past love’s deadline
wolves no longer prowl
vultures, smelling rot,
circle overhead, plot
My essence is solitary
feather fallen between
wide-eyed expectancy
and maturity’s abyss
Abandonment or neglect
I truly cannot say…
(Tuesdays I borrow from Twitter @Vjknutson. Image my own.)
Another that hit so well, tagging memories of so long ago, a heartache which took years to dull. I applaud Luna for expressing these heartfelt emotions so well!
It gets so cold
when loneliness enters the scene
but the feeling is actually burning.
Burning with the desire to break free.
Burning with the desire to sleep in peace.
Burning when you remember things
the way they used to be.
Burning when you see the shadow of
the empty place that once had a heartbeat.
This piece gripped me from the beginning but man, those last six lines did me in! I hope it touches you as well.
lethargic, depressed, tired
and by my side
you need me
to get you to functional
engaged, up, happy
and still not by my side
there is loneliness
with or without you
you’re just not there
for me…
Which version do you prefer me to be?
The me that doesn’t always suit you quite so perfectly
The me that fits your perception of who I should be
The me who never has moments of weakness that brings me to my knees
It is difficult trying to be who everyone wants me to be
One day I’m going to only have myself to please
I reach out for your hand, repeatedly waiting just for someone to understand
Love me
Hate me
There is no in between
I understand though because I feel the same things
I’ve spent my whole life just trying to breathe
Still to this day I run, I hide, driving around aimlessly in an attempt to ignore the brokenness that is inside
The only thing I really need is someone to listen and comfort the pieces that are me
I know they say love comes with a cost
Maybe I’m just tired of feeling so damn lost
Not feeling accepted has taken a toll on me
Devastation added on top of the underlying pain
Nothing I can do but sit holding no one accountable
What else would you expect me to do
I turn it all inside
Carrying all the burdens
Hiding all the shame
Running from the memories
At the end of the day I have no one to blame
It’s ok though because I know that pain
I feel invisible
Nothing to lose
Oh wait, that’s right
That’s when I get told I don’t have a clue
I wonder if I’ve ever really showed anyone who I really am
My broken pieces run far too deep
Inside my demons constantly keeping me from sleep
Continually re-victimized by the very same voices that keep feeding me lies
Just when I feel I can’t hold on one more day, it occurs to me that no one is coming to save me and it doesn’t even matter if I were to walk away
All the labels and judgment
Fill my ears
But again no one knows the shell of a woman standing in front of them
Too sensitive
Too bossy
Too picky
Too upset
Too cautious
Too angry
Too hurt
Too organized
Too right
Too wrong
Too isolated
Too weak
Too strong
Too emotional
Too tired
Too sexy
Too much
Too difficult
Too quiet
Too old
Too kind
Too loud
Too thoughtful
Too busy
Too hyper
Too complicated
Too Broken
Surrounded by all the voices
Seeming so intrigued
Fascinated by my words and wisdom
They like me
They love me
Oops once again I’ve been misled
They were only passing the time
And never again thought of me
Have you ever truly felt this alone?
A powerful piece about the internal struggles individuals grapple with.
Well done, Taylor!
A suitcase lies among the many things
Abandoned when the owner left for good.
Exposed to elements, old mildew clings
To fabric torn and peeling from the wood.
The dusty handle still emits a shine
In places that endured the frequent grasp
Of hands too hurried by the railroad line
To put on gloves or lock the metal clasp.
What irony! A suitcase left behind
Speaks more about the trip it never made,
Found useless for the task it was designed
When owner passed from substance into shade.
The things that matter now won’t matter then.
The cycle ends only to start again.
Randal A. Burd, Jr. is an educator who works with the disadvantaged in rural Missouri. He holds a master’s degree in English Curriculum & Instruction from the University of Missouri. Randal is currently the Editor-in-Chief of Sparks of Calliope magazine. His latest collection of poems, Memoirs of a Witness Tree, is forthcoming from Kelsay Books in Summer 2020.
It was wonderful to read each line and feel the elements present themselves in my mind. Randal did a great job of making me feel the loneliness and emptiness of the scene. All I could think of was “poor suitcase” as if it were feeling pain. Bravo!
has life
gotten
on my last nerve
let me check
am I still here
wallowing
do I really
want to know
what life means to me
or am I done
with feeling
empty emotions
and fickle people’s
trying attempt
at connection
that misses
every.damn.time
to engage
i fear i’m done
waking up alone
peace, quiet, serenity
stillness awaits me
one soul, all alone, happy
sleeping by myself again
I hope you enjoy this piece as much as I did. It was achingly human.
I found myself dwelling in the past
looking for the remains of the old me
wondering, how I used to feel.
What I found was
The love in my blood had drained
The trust I had in people had died
And the loneliness had embraced me
Since the night I stayed awake and cried.
Should I fear it, I questioned
What makes me a human, I don’t feel it anymore
Its been a while since I have felt a touch
I haven’t been touched in a while
touched by kindness
touched by love
touched by affection
I’m locked inside a prison of isolation
No one has come to see me yet
No one tried to free me yet
No one seems to be bothered by my absence
No one cares if I’m doing okay or not.
So I’ve decided to adopt it
Embrace the loneliness to used it for good.
I shut myself in
far away from the world
from the world where nobody cared anything I said
I start to live on my own
inside a big empty hall,
I start to explore,
explore the walls
see if they can protect me
or can they be broken by the storm
The storm lurking outside
waiting for me to go out
so it can devour me from inside
I live by myself
drawing, writing, praying.
drawing poetry, writing stories and saying my prayers
so I can learn to appreciate my solitude
and turn my flaws into art.
something
someone
please
push me
over the edge
of my disillusionment
to something
to someone
inspiring
propelling me
to care
again
back to being in awe
back to wanting more
back to love
it’s empty here
