Pushing away caused many. Need to isolate, resulted in several. Loss of love, self inflicted. Fissures widen never quite closing. Scars of my own making. Copyright (C) 2019 Penny Wilson Image by Kevin McIver from Pixabay
This is the first full day of winter. My mother’s birthday. It’s been more than 25 years since she passed. But I still miss her. Happy Birthday Mom. ❤
I started to NOT post this. I thought it was sad. But missing loved ones is sad I suppose. I’m happy that she is always a part of my life. For my Mom.
The walls are permeated with the laughter and tears once shared.
I fill the room as best I can with today’s sunlight.
I open the window, but the breeze does not sweep away the past.
A life once lived clings tightly.
My fingers touch a picture frame.
Frozen in time, you cradle a child.
I can feel the love in the smile on your lips.
Your fingers gently brush the hair from my face.
Behind my eyes, I’m swept away.
I am once again, safe. Warm. Loved.
You always smelled of lilacs.
Today, your memory is as vivid as yesterday.
Other times, your face is but a faded shape in the mist.
You are always with…
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But one day you’ll meet the girl you swore you’d never find
Start feeling things you never felt and spending all your time
Trying to figure out how she got this hold on you
And when you start to fall, you’ll hold onto your pride
Start building up your walls and ever let her get inside
You’ll push her away ’cause that’s all you know how to do
And then she’ll leave and you won’t beg her not to go
Ask me how I know
Partial song lyrics, Ask Me How I Know written by-Mitch Rossell, sung by Garth Brooks
You throw the words from your lips to land in the chill air between us. The chill outlasts the flame we once shared. (C) 2019 Penny Wilson *This is in response to Sue Vincent's Thursday Photo prompt #writephoto. If you 'd like to get in on the fun, you can find out all about it HERE.
I can cry with happiness or from pain. My tears can evoke sympathy from you or pity. They spring from my emotions, provoking emotions in you.
How can I use them? Seems a shame to waste such a thing; to let them fall needlessly upon the earth. Will they nourish the soil? Will they feed the flowers? Perhaps I could bottle them. Sell them as an elixir. A potion to cure the sick. Or a youth serum. I can see myself as a street corner merchant. Promising the moon with my little vials of prized tonic.
When I’m alone and no one can see, they can still fall. What good is that? How can I use them?
I use my tears
to water the
along the shadowed
of my heart.
and light my way.
Copyright © 2019 Penny Wilson
*No worries, my friends. Just playing with words here.
REBLOG: Please enjoy John Coyote’s Beautiful piece. If you don’t follow his blog, you should! 🙂 Enjoy!
(Beautiful faces and passionate kisses. A Poem by Coyote Poetry.) (Good to be young in heart. Willing to rebirth love and desire everyday of a life.) Beautiful faces and passionate kisses When the night is long and sleep is far away. Sweet faces appeared to awake dead passion and re-birth ghosts lost in […]
The search never ending you were at my fingertips once and slipped away I found you in a smile or so I thought My illusions tease me Your image like waves on asphalt in summer Your voice whispers in the shadows waking me Breezes carries a scent of you I pursue Your touch I miss most Copyright © 2019 Penny Wilson
REBLOG: Don’t mis this beautiful piece from Heart String Eulogies. ❤
“And maybe I’ll remember the good moments. The ones spent by your side.” And maybe, after all is said and done, I’ll finally reach the end. The end of this war. This lifetime of fighting for my own right to breathe. To push forward, no matter how hopeless my circumstances. And maybe, the day will […]
Before you go, Sweep up my dignity. You see, I've thrown it away. It became irrelevant in your presence. Can I recapture it without looking in your eyes? What will I see reflected there? Yesterday’s letters expressed it plainly. Songs we sung to one another. The words now blurry; running on the page. Before you go, Take my heart from your hand. It’s held too tightly. Severed. Fractured. More resilient than I knew. The imprint of your fist will fade. Eventually. Before you go, Draw the blinds. To accept the light would be a subversion. Copyright © 2019 Penny Wilson
*Just a few old memories here…. All is well.