A riddle

I’m not tall
Or handsome

What I am
I cannot

I’m not
What every mother
Would wish for her little girl

Perhaps hearts flutter
When I choose to be
The life of the party

Do not
Be deceived
It’s an act I’ve mastered well

The several skins
I’ve grown accustomed to wearing
Sometimes I forget which is real

It’s difficult
To ask you to love me

When sometimes I forget
Just who I am

Perhaps you like riddles
Then I am one
You can try to answer.

The little things

What we remember
After all is said and done
After the party has ended
And no one is left

After time passes
And memories fade slowly into the past
After friends have ceased being friendly
And strangers have become our new friends

My heart has loved
And been broken
And repeated that journey a few times more

The beards of my soul
Have turned grey with age
And I walk not as briskly as I was known to

After recognisable days
Have long passed by
And every day
Seems more uncertain than the last

I lost hope
In humanity
And became content to just exist

What is remembered are
The little things
We took for granted
While they were in motion

The walks and the laughter
The poetry and the innocents
Of young hearts beating
As though for the first time

It’s the little things
We miss and remember
The seeming eternal embraces
The promises

The promises that were never kept
But made
To an eager audience of one
Holding on to every word like one’s final breath

The little things
That remind us
That we are yet human
When the cold tells us otherwise

The breath caressing your ears
As the words
Whispered softly
Soothe your pained heart

Those little things that have fled us
That we crave as we twist and turn
On the same lonely pallet
Night after night

Those little things that would have reminded us
Of our continued humanity
Have walked away without a glance backwards

The seduction

By a dream
A promise
That may not be kept

Because we want to believe
To believe that somebody somewhere
Cherishes thoughts of us

By a promise
Of hearts playing the same tune
Dancing to the same song

Desiring to end
The season of loneliness
In the embrace of another heart

The promises
Sounding too good to be true

In a cold dark world
By the ones that would lead by the hand
Till our hands are cuffed

That we would become
Slaves to the passions
The seducers seeded and nurtured

By words
Painting pictures in our mind
Visions to aspire to

Promises dripping with honey
To a starved orphan
Such as I am

Brought to a land
I never knew
A people not my own

By a myriad of voices
Promising forbidden pleasures
Unspeakable things

When we are vulnerable
When our will is weakened
By the travails that befall our kind

Day and night
With words and with pictures
That lead one way only

Till we find ourselves as morsels
Consumed by our captors
The spinners of forbidden tales

Because I can be
Like many others
Before me

Because like you
I want
To love and be loved

Beautiful hopes extend their call to me
Long denied pleasures are offered me

Because I am human
If only for a little while

When I tire
From wrestling the seductions
That have followed from my birth

As I cry for help
Weak and confused
Battered and bruised

For they can
And so they do
For I live so close to their country

I remain
Yet unyielding
Even in the middle of the chaos.

Home alone

I peer
Out of my shell

Wanting to

The world around me
It calls
With a loud voice it calls

But I dare not answer
The cries of the Sirens
Lest I get lost in their enchantment

In that shell
Have I read parchments
Of the calling worlds

The creatures
That dwell therein
I shudder

There is sickness
An epidemic
Seeping through the walls of the shell I call home

I peer
Every so often
For I find myself home alone

Or I would not have heard
The seducing cries
That would steal my soul

It is yet worth something
I forget

I do not plan to
But I forget
Sadly so

It comes from
Having been home alone so long

Will you remind me
That I might know if there is yet something left
That I might at least make a fair trade.

What lies in my heart

More than words can say
Or more than I dare say
Do I love you
But I would not explore it

Or define it
Afraid of what I might find
However unlikely
It may be

There is the risk of it
There always was
When a doctor treats such a patient
Sparks sometimes fly

At least so we were told
By those more experienced
In such matters
Their wisdom have I chosen to trust

And yet I ask myself
What is this in my heart
Is it loneliness or another animal
Or is it that long absent house guest

Who came for just a while
And altered
My eyes and my heart

I find it safer to think
It is nothing at all
But the care of a doctor
We swore to save lives, did we not?

Some other tools of mine beg to differ
And yet I would not listen
It is safer that way
Call me a coward but I prefer safety

At least compared to chaos
The chaos that emotions can stir
The whirlwind carrying
And destroying all in its path

And here I say the things I cannot
At attempt to understand
What lies in my heart
And if it lies to my heart.

My lonely heart

Where do they go
When they fall sick
And die
Lonely hearts, I mean

The seeming eternal silence
That surrounds me
Echoing ceaselessly
In my ears

There’s no one
To hear the beating
Of my heart
No one but me

No one to hear
The words that fill my heart
And they die
Yet unspoken

No one to
Hold me
When I am cold
And screaming from a nightmare

They plague me
When I am awake
My nights are filled
With twisting and turning, alone

Alone on my lonely pallet
Sleeping the sleep
Of the damned
And the weary

I tire
Of fighting despair
Can it not
Just up and leave

I have given my life away
And have nothing left but crumbs
It seems
I cannot ask for it to be returned

Would I
If I could
A scary question it itself
That I would even consider it

But what have I to do
In the heat of today’s battles
I fear
I am forgetting how to smile

And I have
No one to remind me
And save me
And my lonely heart from it all.

Battered and bruised, broken and waiting

I keep at it
Long and hard
On and on
Tirelessly, it seems

I keep doing
What I know to
I keep giving
All of myself

It seems
Little by little
I have exhausted
My supply

I sit
Battered, bruised and broken
And maybe
A little bitter

Is goodness
A trick
We play
On ourselves

To convince
That we will get the same

Is it
We are

I despair
I tire
Of waiting
For the dream

For the dream
To come true
Like I thought it would
Like I was told it would

And yet I cannot remember
Who told me
Perhaps that
Was another dream.