The perfect stranger

Photo courtesy of acrossthemargin.com

Once it’s gone, it’s hard to grasp.

We chase after it like bees to honey.

Forever stuck in a maze filled with misery.

Every word they say suddenly becomes blocks of ice that protect us from shattering.

Those three words used to mean something.

Now, they’ve suddenly lost all meaning.

There are no words of similarities.

There is no bridge to climb and get over.

We stand before them, surrounded by the gloom of muffled screams.

We wished it to be different.

We wished it to be gone.

We can’t fight the voices inside of our heads that beg us to take a step back and walk away.

Suddenly we are bare foot with no where to go.

He sat on a park bench, overlooking the water.

The way the sun glimmer over it, it was magical.

It was the way she once looked at you before the war started.

Who you are now, she never knew.

Not so perfect world

I lay awake pondering recent events.
What is it I could have done better?
At times I feel as though I’m on display, placed inside a room filled with windows that I can’t see the other side to.
I lay here, eyes gazed toward the ceiling, trying to count all of the circles that were plastered on the walls, and I can’t concentrate.
My mind wanders to a vision from the future of worriers.
I am frightened.
I am alert.
I want nothing more than to wrap you in my arms and flash a dimpled smile, letting you know that everything is alright and yet I can’t.
The words don’t quite make it to my lips and my mouth faltered into the abyss.
Our lives are a show, long-extended soap opera and the rating have come in.
Everyone is watching us like hawks to their prey and I can’t win.
Nothing I say or do makes sense as my character stumbles into the murky water to drown one last time before restarting into someone else’s world.
This is the place where the nonconformists come to die.