The Boy in The Bubble

Thoughts From E.E. Cummings

I found this on Blogger "Here is My Heart," I like the sentiments. :)

“Love is the voice under all silences, the hope which has no opposite in fear; the strength so strong mere force is feebleness: the truth more first than sun, more last than star…” E. E. Cummings

Bleeding Heart

I would if I could

Heal the whole wide world

Patch up and fix all the holes

I've tried

Ended up with a bleeding heart

Restraint

Daily I've struggled

Swallowed tears

Screamed in pillows

Aching for relief

So sore from living, so tired

Restraint

Left alone to leave alone

Spring Fireworks

Fireworks

Bursting through the branches

White illuminations

lamplight through spring flowers

From Here and There

Little hints of joy

here and there

a dash of the dramatic

from bits of time

stolen seconds

in-between

here and there

An Angel, A Saint - I'm a Sinner

They say writing helps

I say I'm a writer

In writing there is not enough or there is too much

not enough oomph and pizazz

enough training

enough time

Too many thoughts, too many dreams, too many words flit away, fleeting

I can't write, I can't speak, I don't know, it's all pressing in upon my heart

I miss something wordless, something sacred and dear

Sadness, tears, hope

Feelings that don't make sense anymore, I've lost them

How many patches can heal a broken heart

Broken, yes, but despairing

I suppose humility would help, I know I have been guided and blessed

Ha I recognize this!

Can I sing Hallelujah? I would, I would sing with the choir

I can't though, I can't

Can't you look at me and know that I'm sinking? Sinking in the mire! I'm doing what I can yet I cannot do enough! I cannot! I Cannot!!!

If I could just give this pain up I would, oh Lord I would but that seems to require that I care! I Cannot! I cannot! I've got too much to do!

My love, my word it's nothing like I want it to be, it cannot be I cannot feel! My God!

If you loved me you would require that I should be held, just held and loved and loved and held and you would let me go or would hold me close or leave me alone because I am a shell sheltering a little girl that once cried every night for a friend.

They say that writing helps

Does it? Am I helped? Am I better? NO I miss what I never had, I miss what I wanted before, I miss something, something and even though I try I cannot be enough of who you think I am

An Angel, A Saint

I'm a sinner

I'm just this way, a pathetic wreck of a soul

Can you tell me I am not? What about you Cousin? Cousins? Friends? I have no friends I'm too busy no one cares for a wreck really? Do they? They care only if you can cheer and make them laugh, I cannot, I'm no good for them.