Pressed Flowers

I don't understand this sickening sadness that descends upon my heart so often anymore. I know life can't be as bad as it seems, but still here I am believing that it is not worth living. I know I'm not the only one who has had pain and spoiled dreams, and yet, I feel all alone in my sadness, and no one but myself can bear those burdensome memories. Only God knows what churns deep inside my heart, and though I wish to spill all my emotions, I know that vulnerability has a habit of breeding fear and dependence. And I do not want either. How is it that in one breath I can be okay and in the next I feel as if a knife was plunged between my ribs. I wish to wake up and realize that I have something amazing to live for. I had something that made my eyes sparkle once, but now I hardly believe that they ever did--or that they ever can again.
I hold it all inside and I let no one see. Words are so unbelievable to so many people that I can spill my heart with no one ever taking me seriously. It's a protection--and yet it hurts, for though they are but words scrawled upon a sheet of paper, they last forever. Thoughts, never written, only last as long as the memory of the thinker. Words, never taken down, only last as long as the hearers remember. Of course, my simple written words are just as easily destroyed, but yet, to me, they seem more tangible. They are like driving a stake into the ground and saying these are my emotions preserved like pressed flowers, and somehow it clears away the fog and makes me see clearly again. For my lips will never speak that which my fingertips pour out. Though my lips pour out laughter, my fingers scrawl pain; I am neither one, nor the other, but a strange undrinkable mixture of both. And my soul feels like nothing more than a tune of the violin passionately but mournfully played.

Rest of the Weary

Come my darling, come
 Into my arms tonight.
Rest your wearied head
 Upon this breast of mine,
Hardened by this great work
 Of living.

Let the troubles of the day
 Melt like snow on clay
Let me wrap you in my arms
 And whisper that everything
Will be all right.

I'll wipe those lonely tears
 From the hollow of your eyes
And I'll explain away your fears
 In this the middle of the night.

Come my darling, come
 Let me hold you in your sweetest slumbler
In your nightmares
 In the times you shake and tremble.

I will never let you go
 Even when all others seem to
Forget your name
 In the bustle of the day.

When all others are distracted by
 Vain, earthy things--themselves,
You are forever on my mind
 To me you are always known.

If only you could feel my arms
 Around your waist
My finger on your cheek,
 See the love in my eyes.

Come my darling, come.

•••

This weariness, this slumber
 Will always hold me in his arms.
He asks for nothing,
 Yet gives me the rest I need.

Some nights he spins me tales
 So my tired mind can believe again
In fantasies and fairy tales.

His arms are ever willing to hold
 Even when I long to resist him
For the novelties of living.

But I will ever fall into those arms of sleep
 To rest, to dream, to open my eyes again.

Leaving

I have the intense desire
In this aching heart of mine
To let the aches I so greatly feel
Harden me into a person irredeemable
And unreachable
Untraceable

I look around at so many faces
And my soul hardens in embitterment
Why does bitterness seem to fill
When all it truly does is empty
These faces
Hold so many secrets
So many secret lusts
Leering eyes
Prideful looks

And yet I know that I look the same as they
I don't know who I am
Or what I live for anymore
I hear voices spurring ones on to walk in integrity
And to choose the right simply because it is right
To walk in the hands of God

And yet I look from a distance
And I no longer partake in that walk
Words come from my lips
But not from my heart
And all I feel is insincerity
And a coldness that seeps into my veins and freezes my heart

I see eyes giddy with love
Overflowing with happiness
And deep in my heart I know I'll never trust enough to love
Craving and shunning
Both will always possess my soul
And I hate the feeling of wanting
And vulnerability
I crave intimacy
But I hate
I hate
The feeling that I'm being used

I want to shut everyone and everything out
  And not need anyone but myself.