BURNT BRIDGE

ell1

I want to tell you of my experience with depression

of my close communal with fear that gripped me near chock

of my deep heartfelt conversations with the tears that stained my cheeks and left my sleeves drenched.

I want to tell you of my glory days with pain, that held me tight and in the hiccups and wails and screams and… disdain

of solemn  nights of broken promises, filled with empty space and voiceless echoes.

of porcelain smiles and  void laughters.

I want to tell you of the empty space under my feet, the heavy floor over my head…

but, how can I?

how can I?

EMPTY, GONE

darklove
I remember seeing that corpse
Nothing but bones and remnants of flesh
Blackened and shriveled by the elements of time and nature
Skin once once warm and soft
Now ice cold to the touch
Everything this person was
And could’ve been,
vanished
Is gone
To another place
But not the memory


I know of a woman! I can’t tell you her name, that’s simply because you won’t understand the weight of it nor the meaning the name carries. She is the woman I first fell in love with, whole heartedly because she showed how a woman loves completely and effortlessly. She loves with her eyes and […]

via WHEN A WOMAN LOVES — AgentOfWords

NOT THE SAME GIRL

GOTHIC55

I’m seated here listening to all the conversations and deliberations  going on around me. Low voices, screams, shouting, whispers, wails you name them.  I’m not alone, so don’t call me crazy or insane. You can call me twisted though, we are all twisted in a way..

I’m with my friends and acquaintances, family or at least that is what it should be. But I feel like I’m in the foreign land with foreign people speaking foreign language.

The games I Used to play and the songs I used to sing along to appeal to me no more. The moves I used to make, the jokes I used to crack.

I know they can see it on my face that I’m not the same girl they used to know, that there is something amiss or additional to the face but a finger can’t quite be put to it. So they circle around keeping the circle around me wide increasing the radius, i can feel it. They smile and wave and laugh and their sounds as they chatters grow farther, as their faces and physique grow flurry and blurred and dimmer.

CROWD

Yes, I am not the same girl I used to be.

Everyone laughs at something that was said and I smile, I don know if I should laugh loudly like the rest! i dont know if i should let it pass, like i didn’t hear a thing. Not knowing the intensity of the laughter, I just smile, a very shallow wallowing that will keep me close enough to have an idea of what’s going on but distant enough to disappear without notice when need be. So they dine and commune with my body when my heart is doing flips and mind going round; well my soul gave up on me.

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I’m not the same girl I used to be, I can hear it in my voice and in the songs over the radio sang by that sick rapper when he was high on weed and wasted flat in syrup.

I can see it in the way I walk. No, I don’t stagger nor do I strut but the way my legs shuffle, the way I exchange my right and left as I move tells me that I’m not the same girl.

I can see it in the eyes of that girl every time i stare in the mirror, who the fuck is that? there is something about her face, about her eyes, the way her lips curve into a smirk or is it not?

The clothes I wear.

 

I look at Ashley, Sheryl, Melanie… That’s how a girl should look. They invite me for picture. Wait, why are they even inviting? I used to be the one getting people to take pictures. I used to be the queen of lens game. But I smile all the same and go behind despite my five feet height.

What’s the point of standing in front when my face can’t pull out a smile leave alone a smirk?

I look at the picture taken, I’m the only one with no lipstick on. I’m the only one without a smile and the only one in dark clothes that cover every inch of my skin except for my neck where one can see a part of a tattoo; a lizard tattoo.

Don’t ask me. I’m still thinking why I had it done too of all the famous and pretty tattoos.

But I’m not the same girl.

The clothes I wear tell the story, same as told by the texture on my face and the music made by my feet as I walk, walk on paths that used to be familiar. Yes, I’m not the same girl but my lips can’t tell you that cause the language you speak, the language they speak may be estranged already.

So, as I part ways with them, I plug in the earphones and feel the holy grail as I slip back in my comfort zone. My feet carry me faster and faster away and their laughter fade and the mask on my face is peeled of. breeze on skin, unfreeze the time.

GOTHIC11

I finally feel safe in my haven.

 

I’m definitely not the same girl!

 

p.s

all pictures, courtesy of internet.

 

@ellahhallets/agentofwords

 

WHEN A WOMAN LOVES

images ell

I know of a woman!

I can’t tell you her name, that’s simply because you won’t understand the weight of it nor the meaning the name carries.

She is the woman I first fell in love with, whole heartedly because she showed how a woman loves completely and effortlessly. She loves with her eyes and her smile. She loves with the way she walks gracefully and on every pebble and blade of grass she steps on. She loves with the movement of her hands and the swaying of her hips and when she turns that neck, God she oozes love.

I knew she loved me from the first time she called my name, I never knew my name could sound so sweet, so musical that each time it dances softly on her tongue and spills to her lips I am  dazed, dazzled and obliged.

Each time she looks at me, I suffocate silently in the intoxicated air. Her warm smile brightens up my tired wrinkled face and I’m left speechless.

How I love when she suddenly reaches for my toughened and roughed hand in middle of the street or on the dance floor and put it on her smooth polished cheek. Or when she forces it on her bare tummy 2 in the arm after we drift. I get scared that it’ll scratch her delicate self. I get scared of the scratches and bruises it may cause to her skin.

I look at her as she rubs it on her skin smiling and I feel her warm blood beneath, I feel the warmth, how she loves beautifully with everything that is is her.

And I get scared.

I get scared of my scared heart that has endured a lot to toughen up compared to her young one that is so green and full of life.

eel 1

I get scared of my tattered clothes and shoes that barely keep the pebbles out, how do I much up to her fine gowns that were only meant to dine in fine hotels. How do I match up to the shoe that could pay my rent and feed my brothers.

I get scared of my hard tough skin, she doesn’t deserve me.

But she is not scared, she holds me close enough, she let’s me in without a second thought, she smiles at me without a hint of disgust or rust in her heart.

She let’s me see her nakedness, her skin and she is not shy about it. I am tempted to touch her, every inch of her skin, I am tempted to inhale her in, to know her not just by her name but by the scents she has on her body and the corners and curves engraved on it, by the folding of hers skin and her dark areas.

She let’s me see her inside, and out.

She loves beautifully.

I flinch.

I want to tell her that  I can’t seat on her couch, that I can’t stand by her pouch ill stand by the door goodness I can’t even get in. I want to tell her I can’t, that I’m sorry, that ill retrace my foken steps back to my mothers land. I want to tell her she’s beautiful, too beautiful like its sacred. I just want to walk away and back into that shit hole that I tried to escape. But I don’t.

No, I can’t.

But I don’t .

eel 2

I drown in her arms and sink to my knees as I drink her sweet scented skin. I cry openly as my clothes rather pieces of clothes fall to the ground and I let her see my scarred skin. My hands wrapping her waist, my head resting on her tummy, I let her into my vulnerable side.

I feel safe, I feel safe in the hands of this woman.

 

@AgentOfWords/ellahhallets

BEHIND THE DOOR

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Don’t ask me those questions, they don’t make sense.
 I can’t answer them the way you want me to.
No no no!
 Listen here, I can’t conform to that norm and condone it. I am among the weird creatures of the night that can move in absence of light and not be frightened. I don’t fear the dark, I hide in it and embrace it.
Just condemn me if you must.
So you ask why I loved him!?
No, you don’t ask that, you asked why I loved him so deeply that no edge of a sharpened arrow could reach? You ask me how I still care about him?
why i cant stand the look from him but rather avoid it like plague>
You want to know what makes him so different but I wonder if you’ll ever understand the truth.I look at you and head for the Kleenex!
 I can see, if a  mirror is placed before us and our visages on this hedge compared. The fudges and smudges on my face, the triple contours on yours. I can see the flames in your eyes as you stare down at my drenching ones. You shake your head, disapproving my tears and probably feeling bad. I nod mine readily like anodes in cohesion with the stabs, you’ll never understand.
You push the whole Kleenex pack at my disposal and I can’t feel my guts, the knots of my soul are tightening, I can feel the air choking me; that’s not shocking!?
I smile with my face and laugh with my tears.
‘You will never understand this Micheal!’
I tell you as a matter of facts flatly as I blew my itchy nose noisily to my joy.
‘Try me lady in Red’
lalala
Your face has mixed emotions. You don’t know whether to smile so as to encourage mine or to sympathise with me or just provoke my rage. My image poses a challenge and the moment seems paused.
I look at you direct in the eye, deeper than you can imagine and probably through you; I may not know but I understand that I couldn’t see your face before me if not just a distant feature.
You are stupid, naive, crappy or probably fucked up in an organised hell cause mine is a messy heaven.
You wouldn’t believe me if I told you he was the first person to pluck me a flower and give to the girl in his band  who smiled and loved the delicious scent.
You wouldn’t believe that he will hold my hand in the streets close enough to whisper the sweet charmings but distant enough to hold hers too.
You wouldn’t believe if I said he is the heart and I the beat and every time I held my breath, he never missed a beat; mine wasn’t his only beat. So how do I live without the heart.
You wouldn’t believe me if I told you every time he conversed with the tender of my neck, I had to wash off black lipstick when mine was red and un-smudged. I never raised a word.
You wouldn’t believe me if I told you how I’d drag him to the shower for a forth time. No, don’t get me wrong, I don’t like the shower romance, I gulp down a lot of water in their; the strange perfume was suffocating me. i never wear perfume.
lalala3
Wait!
Of course you’d believe all that, that’s what you wanna hear.
So you blind yourself from my side of the truth!
I blink again distracting myself and let my eyes stray to the passing merc X. The driver is a lady. She seems to be rushing somewhere given the way her swift poised neck is making rapid corkings. The seats are leather and custom made. That must have cost a good fortune. How I notice all this from where I’m seated is all the same strange. But I smile all the same, this time with my lips.
‘ Why do do still love him…’
I don’t look at you cause I know the look ill gaze into.
Will he believe if I told him that I miss rolling 4 in the am in bed into his long arms that never let me go?
That every time I breath, I miss the heart with only the beat in my chest!
That I miss his pathetic lasagna and the insane 2 am coffee at La Cafe?
That I miss the simple things in life we shared, like the way he sang worse than a cat on heat?
The way he will cut his nails crooked and insist I file then cause he will say that its my back that they will scratch then I hit him with a pillow?
Will he understand the hollowness ahead and beneath me now. I feel it every time I cry, every time I cough or laugh or sneeze cause echo is the only voice that that I hear.
Will he understand that my nail polish is chipping because for long that hasn’t been my concern…
No!
Micheal will never understand that.
Fuck no!
‘Thank you’
I look at him one last time and storm out..
He doesn’t call back like he usually does but I could feel his eyes on me.
May be I’m the stupid, crappy and naive one. I want to rush back, for just a second and hug him, but I don’t. I swing the bag over my shoulder and head for the road my mind on that bottle and that’s when the Merc X swings by.
Screeching of breaks!
lalala4
Heaven and Hell.
I don’t know which of two this highway with flash lights leads to.
Both are real

I WILL BE FINE

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I will be fine

You tell yourself that again and again, over and over yet you yourself can feel the force of current heading south, yet to hit the very bottom and sweeping the ocean floor. you can see yourself submitting to the waves.

I will be fine

You murmur and sweetly whisper to yourself that as you wrap yourself in the thick blanket of a decaying illusion, a mere successful hallucination, yet you know that the dusk is approaching and the lights are timing out, dim. Dimmer and dimmer. The sky is dark grey, and the stars even blacker, the moon well the moon is not out tonight.

I will be fine

You are fucking not okay, but how good you are that you are cheating death itself, lying to yourself that you will be fine and perfect. That the hiccups will cease, tears will ease and joy and happiness will cease to tease you but rather please you. You lie , you cheat and its one more day one more night and all actions whether right or not seems to be in blight

images_20

I will be fine

No, look, you wont be fine sweetheart, you will just get accustomed to it, the wide arena will be familiar. the terrain will be symbolic the dried terraces that once drenched your face will make headlines in history books, memories, call them stories of back then. the narrow slow streams n sloppy grounds downhill will remind you that you once, twice, thrice… cried a river

I will be fine

Yes you can play the part and perfect the act, but the scars on your once clean skin will remind constantly you of the taste, color and smell of fresh velvet blood and broken bones buried and prolixly hurried. The scars in your head will be a constant reminder of the horror that happens to be based on the true story: your story. And you will close your eyes and open…It will still be the same book, just a different page or chapter

I will be fine

Yes, you may, but not on those lonely nights when the pitch of the darkness is at its peak and the angels have retreated. Not on those days when the earth will be flooded and you seem to b the only one holding your breath, not breathing. Not on those evenings when the curtains fall at the end of the show and you are the only person behind the curtains, it was a one man show.

I will be fine

I will be okay

But, i am not alright.

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@ellahHallets

agentofwords.

The midpoints


I just feel like being someone and no one,  somebody and no body

the hero and the villain

The main, that image under the spotlight and the supporting, those behind the shadows, those that make others shine.

I want to be the tears and streams on my face and linger idly on my cheeks

I want to be the glitter in my eyes that sparkle with happiness and joy.

I want to be the sound of the laughter 

And the echoes of my wails and screams

I want to love so hard, so deep and wide

I want to hate love with every inch of my soul and heart

I want to fall asleep, a sleep so deep till night mares turn into sweet dreams and midnight clocks can’t be heard, I want to wake up in slumber land

I want to walk and walk without stopping, walk so fast, walk so far till I touch the horizon, till the clouds become my blankets and my feet hang in the air.

I want to feel the sun’s rays on my skin, to busk and roast my flesh in the sun for an eternity

I want to swim, to get drenched and drown in the floods of the rain

I want too be a baby and be reckless, to not care of how dirty the mad is or what tomorrow holds, to not know how fear looks like, or how tears tastes like

I want to be an adult, so careful and chosy with what the world has to offer, 

I want to be a student and learn how to live, how to survive

But I feel like I can make a good sensei, like I got all it takes

I want to look on every corner of this circular world and absorb in absolutely everything there is.

 But I’m scared of seeing the true colors of the world

I want to silently and loudly inhale the air in my surrounding, my eyes closed drift, mind settled as I weigh my weight on the surface of the earth

But I’m afraid to breath, to forget where I’m.

I want to hear the gentle cool breeze, the birds chirp melodiously,I want to listen to the colors and the drawings and pattens in the sky’s

But what happens when the sounds cease, or when the melodies become hourse and husky, what if they become dirges 

I want to put up my nose in the air and not worry

But I’m afraid of what I might catch.

I’m afraid

I’m afraid

I’m afraid

Ellipsis

​Not sure when it happened

Not sure where it began

It’s blurred around the edges

Out of focus and off plan

Yet it became embedded

Took root within my soul

In a moment of weakness

Spinning out of all control

My knees weak under strain

My head not thinking straight

At the bottom of a bottle

When it was much too late

To look at you objectively

To realise the impact

To withhold my affections

And deny the clear facts

That in the quest for distraction

You became something more

An unstoppable force

As clothes fell to the floor

And morels got lost

Whilst limbs intertwined

Stealing stolen kisses

As vodka mixed with wine

And your face was imprinted

Into my vulnerable mind

So each time that I dreamt

You’re the only one I’d find

Whispering so gently

Speaking forbidden words

And haunting me daily

Within songs of the birds

So I ignore all the nightmares

Where ravens would attack

I embrace your verbal arrows

That would stab into my back

Because I burn with this passion

And the thrill of this torment

As this is never ending

There’s no halting my decent
™eyewillnotcry