Queen of Tristesse
I sit in silence.
Tears betray the death of Another beating heart.
Distant to my heartache.
Love is meaningless accented by meaningful Nuances.
Hunger strikes, I’m alone With the pangs,
Unsure if I want to feel the Caress of familiar hands
If I’d rather escape to a Nether land.
Ready to sell inconspicuous potions.
Allow me to flee from my Skin.
Threaded by veins
Morose in temperament.
Aloof to the consequences Of escaping this reality.
Complicit to the sadness That shrieks in my Gut: Pierced spleen.
It’s not nearly as stomach Able as watching the Chambers of my heart in My hands
For the moments tangled In lust.
The desire to be a part of Someone else’s sun.
To inhabit their orbit.
Study the stars
Share butterfly kisses
Break free into a wild run.
Freedom is a state of Mind.
Release me from the Bonds of this exile.
I am the hunted.
I am the hunter with the Blade ready to attack.
This is my vessel.
My only means to move forward.
Cut the strings for this Puppet will not be coerced To dance nor sing,
Until I find a simple hymn.
One to attest that another Mortal respects I am more than my sin.
Words hurriedly apologise to recapture that soul
in the glimmer of dawn
It cowers fearful deep
Have a piece of my heart.
Have a piece of my words.
Sully not my thoughts to Taint my heart with more Leacherous poison.
I am breathing
Merely existing to find out how to win.
This is Life’s charade.
The cards dealt with each hand.
Thanks to Gaia for I have Both intact.
Able to use my body.
Able to use my mind
Not give in.
The melancholy of my
Aura glitters like a Midas Collectible
When it touches the man I call my king.
The weight of this gloom Thunders over me.
Repressing my desire to Quit
Smile authentically. Blossom again.
It ’s not time to hide under sand beds
Muted into making me think I’m still not thin,
These words don’t do Justice
To how I truly feel.
I lose people I love.
Gain friends who form a circled ring around me.
I have to reach out.
Allow a hand to bring me Full circle.
Fighting for the thud in my Heart.
Fighting for another hot Flushed blush.
If I have already died.
Is living not for the likes of My kind?
Am I here to exist glibly?
A ruin of poorly
I sit here in silence , Blowing out smoke rings
I’m the queen of Tristeness.
My position is to not give in.
(Queen of Tristesse part of the ‘Be happy or die trying chronicles)
Posted on Jan 3, 2019, in EXPERIMENTAL WRITING and tagged Body image, Embrace change, Emotions, EXPERIMENTAL WRITING, Fiction, Free will, self expression, self love, Self medication, self-awareness, stream of consciousness poetry, Write to create. Bookmark the permalink. Leave a comment.