Love on a Ventilator

The lies I tell myself
Are what’s left of my pride
My heart’s on a shelf
I’m dying inside
I feel like a wrung out cloth
As you surface in my mind
In my veins, a medicinal broth
Yet, only for you I’ve pined
I was just a dreamer
You were all my dreams
But truly just a schemer
Hope and trust torn from the seams
My heart thumps so loudly
When you’re all I’m thinking about
Clawed from my chest so proudly
Empty save self-doubt
I see you’ve moved on
As I’m keeping pretty still
These machines, I wish them gone
For it’s me I tried to kill
My soul to hell for trying
Please come see me there
An indulgence not worth buying
For the sin of my despair
So catch me when I fall
Dry the tears from my eyes
You’re the only one they’ll call
When this love finally dies

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34 thoughts on “Love on a Ventilator

  1. DEAR LADY, I HOPE that this is but a “picture” and, not the landscape of truth. I DO “HOPE” that you’re ‘WELL’! As a “former” the triggerings of what tries to “kill” us isn’t worth the walking into the “barrels”. Though the brush strokes ARE masterful, I want to think that you haven’t used your own “blood” to paint YOUR HEART for us.

    Here’s some of (my) HOPE and ALL of OUR PRAYERS.
    “D”

  2. No truth, no pride.
    And despair is many things but surely no sin. Because, if there is despair, there is will-power to survive.
    And many thanks for the power of your words!

  3. I don’t keep think you are keeping pretty still, you are moving forward at a pace that is steady and at some point will start to pick up like, well…a very fast thing. You really take me to the depths of your soul, to your raw emotions…it’s all very personal.

  4. It’s a cruel world. We’re born to die. It’s so unjust. And I’m just another mess on this god forsaken planet. So I write what I know, and that’s usually just sadness. I stop by other’s blogs for a smile. Especially yours.

  5. We are indeed born to die so really we need to eak out all the best of it we can. Live as much as you can, grab the smiles and just be you…make life what you imagine it can be!

  6. I tried. I imagined so much more than what I’ve lived. Taking pills to blur the truth from lies really sucks the life out of living, but without them, I’m in bed all day. Tried imagining new things for me, keep banging into walls. Thanks for the ear/eye actually to bend.

  7. Oh Eva, you move me so with your words. I wish I could board a plane and come to the USA to be with you if only to hold your hands and hug those lovely kids of yours (sigh). 🙂

    You are in my thoughts, always! 🙂

  8. I have flexible eyes and ears…I know that I am not the most helpful with my well meaning if misguided comments. it is difficult for a chap of my small life experience to really help in a meaningful way except amuse you with words and possibly getting you to Google penguins falling over.

  9. Small life experience? How old are you? 30? You’ve flown to my country. You’ve done quite a bit. You read a lot, you blog, you write poetry sometimes! And you amuse me quite a bit in a good way. I will google penguins falling over.

  10. 32 and something of a recluse (apart from the 6000 miles trips of course!). I do think I have perhaps lived less than a lot of people who are more comfortable in social situations but I am getting there belatedly.

    I do like to mix the blog up to keep everybody interested and will endeavour to keep up the same jaunty nature with some whimsy too.

  11. Eva, just dropping by to say you are very much in my prayers and to cheer you up. Do keep well for yourself and the children. Love, Iris. 🙂

  12. As Jim Morrison was wont to say, “…the future’s uncertain, and the end is always near.” But as long as we know that, that anything can happen to us in an instant why not, as Natalie Goldberg (Writing Down the Bones) likes to call it, eliminate ‘monkey mind’, or as Buddhists call it the ‘vicious circle’, where constant negativity invades, takes root, and rents space in your head for free.

    What has helped me in the past (besides the plethora of dead soldiers that had littered my floor) is meditation and exercise. Nothing like a fresh dose of endorphins coursing through your veins to make one breathe deep what is possible.

    I send you white light, for healing, and may your own self-saboteur be reigned in; not quashed and banished, but recognized and embraced. Happiness in itself is not sustainable and therefore it is always a pleasure to receive those small doses of elation whenever they may appear.

    warmest wishes,
    Paul 🙂

  13. Thank you, Paul, for such a thoughtful response. I write to slay the dragons in my head…it is an act of catharsis, this writing. Yes, depression has it’s hold on me, but once I’m feeling better I will exercise. I used to work out 3 to 5 days a week.

  14. Such sad, raw words. I do hope things get better for you. In the meantime, writing is a brilliant way of getting it all out there and clarifying things in your head. Keeping anything bottled up is bad for the psyche. So, keep going because as you say, it is a cathartic process. Good luck to you.
    Very bright blessings
    x

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