198 ~ the Last Something that Meant Anything

When you walked away from me
Once upon a time
You left a little girl whose heart turned to stone
To grow up with riddles and rhymes

They say that words can heal a soul
So I spilled the ink, and I spilled it fast
Hoping it would drown the pain
Hidden in the pages of paragraphs

But when the past refuses to be buried
They will raise from the ground like spikes
In a graveyard full of memories
At night is when they’ll strike

With puncture wounds in my hands
I realized I was still holding on
Because I wanted to be just like you
Until I saw that it was wrong

Being heartless doesn’t make one better
Being cold doesn’t make one free
And the passing years have proven
That the stronger of us two, was me

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Photo Credit: murtherer

56 thoughts on “198 ~ the Last Something that Meant Anything

  1. You hit so many emotions with this one you inspired my latest write. I guess it’s the only way I could actually express what I felt when I read what you wrote.

  2. spilled the ink and spilled it fast…you certainly did! That sounds like a pretty personal testament…I love how you share, Britt!

  3. “Being heartless doesn’t make one better
    Being cold doesn’t make one free”

    This is so true, heartlessness and coldness is so easy to get into, I was there a while, but is certainly didn’t make me free. If anything, it just bound me in another illusion. 😦 It’s great to be out of it at last! Wonderful poem Britt – brilliant in fact!!!♥

    • It is, because sometimes it hurts too much to feel things. Thank you Suzy, this one was one of the toughest poems for me to get out. I kept telling Jp about it, and I scheduled it at one point last week to post but pulled it back at the very last minute. It has been something I’ve been struggling with for years, but I’ve finally been able to knock down that pedestal I put him on, and am more at peace now. 🙂

  4. Definitely identify with this one. Love this verse especially:
    But when the past refuses to be buried
    They will raise from the ground like spikes
    In a graveyard full of memories
    At night is when they’ll strike

    Thanks for sharing. That is some soul bearing work.

    • It is hard to bear the soul at times, especially with me not being able to hide behind a mask of anonymity anymore. But I’m glad I got this post out because it eases the soul a bit to know that I am not the only one who feels this way, so thank you.

      • Not at all. I am doing mine under a known name so I work past being squidgy about sharing my work, think it is helping. Really glad you found me and I followed back, your work speaks to me a lot.

And the wind whispers...

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