Bless This Mess: A Poetry Collection

Surviving Love, Part One: The Agony

The sweet whispers of love are like stars you see them shine so bright when everything is as crystal clear as their smile and sincerity.

Even when it's cloudy, if you trust and

truly believe, you believe that

they're still there and will return.

But........

Not all of them come back.

You see, stars are actually bits of dust.

Some stars stay compact.

But too many stars start to dissipate and disintegrate and slowly smash apart, in the vast hole that is space.

The eternal nothingness, the continual empty promises, the silence that seems to be created by forever.

And as that dust blows apart, it heads to your reality.

And as the dust nears the world, some of them join together.

And the faster and faster they fall, they form together and turn into meteors and they go faster and faster right to you......

they hit you.

YOU hit the ground.

Too far and too fast, and you're DOWN.

The meteor slams into your body.

It knocks your on you face; your ass if you're lucky.

It hits you and the secret is out: Love kills.

So, you're hit, you're down, you feel the weight of the meteors, which were once stars, so pretty and light as a feather, you looked to them for comfort whenever you needed to feel reassured that they still love you.

But things get cloudy, and some of us aren't sure the stars are still there.

Unfortunately, some of those stars are gone.

They've turned to dust and eventually collected together to try and kill you.

But what do you do next?

Some die, but if you find yourself lying on the ground and you're able to open your eyes, SOMEHOW,

Yes SOMEHOW,

maybe you see a speck of the sun, a tiny minuscule ray, a little bit of hope.

If you're able to open your eyes and you can feel your body;

congratulations, you've survived love.