You Didn't Hurt Me

I sit alone in the dark,
Gauging her taunt,
I repeat questions to myself,
Hating the haunt,
I hold my head in my hands,
Knowing the undeniable,
I acknowledge the sad truth,
Describing the indescribable…

She didn’t hurt me,
I’m just hurting myself,
She didn’t hurt me,
I’m just hurting myself…

I seek a solution in solitude,
Failing miserably,
I wish to lose all concept,
Thinking dismally,
I hope to forget everything,
Sleeping eternally,
I want to lose myself,
Sinking in dead memory…

She didn’t hurt me,
I’m just hurting myself,
She didn’t hurt me,
I’m just hurting myself…

I scream in frustration,
Yelling incoherent things,
I close my eyes in fatigue,
Remembering ridiculous flings,
I open my eyes to the harsh reality,
Learning to let go is tough,
I recall our great times together,
Dreaming isn’t enough…

She didn’t hurt me,
I’m just hurting myself,
She didn’t hurt me,
I’m just hurting myself…

I collapse onto my bed,
Hoping to have learned something,
I feel a feeling inside,
Knowing I’ve learned nothing,
I desire a heart of smaller size,
Blocking out everyone but I,
I want to care and feel less,
Easing the difficulty of saying goodbye…

She didn’t hurt me,
I’m just hurting myself,
She didn’t hurt me,
I’m just hurting myself…

Why am I so susceptible?
Why is my heart bigger than me?
Why am I so upsetable?
Why is my soul struggling to be free?
Why do I always sneak a peak?
Why can’t I learn to move on?
Why do I desire so much to hear her speak?
Why can’t I accept she’s gone?

She didn’t hurt me,
I’m just hurting myself,
She didn’t hurt me,
I’m just hurting myself…

And what’s worse is the hurt she’d feel if she saw this…
And what’s worse is the guilt she’d feel if she saw this…
Even though she didn’t hurt me…
I’m just hurting myself…

What Do You See?

When you look into my eyes what do you see?
A man in love or a man at sea?
When you look into my eyes what do you see?
A trapped soul inside begging to be free?

Clarity of blue is clouded by loss,
Murky as the waters of Venice,
Clarity of blue is clouded by loss,
Confusion is the new Red Menace…

The battle rages in Milan,
Entrapped amidst the industrialisation,
The battle rages in Milan,
External battles bring exacerbation…

The people on the train concern individually,
Relativity in five different languages,
The people on the train concern individually,
Italian has its advantages…

Churches and architecture offer no solace,
Paintings portray a time long gone,
Churches and architecture over no solace,
Music conveys feelings living on…

Men with pigeons act remorselessly,
Preying on communication barriers,
Men with pigeons act remorselessly,
No distraction for heart broken carriers…

Escape to history’s home brings a welling,
Emotion builds and breaks,
Escape to history’s home brings a welling,
Love always gives and takes…

The city of masks cannot hide the truth,
The beating can be seen in my eyes,
The city of masks cannot hide the truth,
There is no escaping the fabricated lies…

When you look into my eyes what do you see?
A man in love or a man at sea?
When you look into my eyes what do you see?
A trapped soul inside begging to be free?

One Hundred and Ninety Words

One hundred and ninety words are used to tell me what I’ve feared for months,
One hundred and ninety words are used to tell me what one word could easily have told,
One hundred and ninety words confirm I’ve been chasing a shadow all this time,
One hundred and ninety words destroy any lingering hope living in the dreams of a deserted heart…

Months of mind games draw to a close,
The dust settles and the outcome emerges,
Dreams and fantasy play on my mind
As I hope for the fairytale ending;
The first forty-eight words appear on the screen,
Telling me what I’ve long since known,
Her time in solitude has reaped many rewards
While hidden complications prevent any commitments;
The next ninety-three words continue the story,
Telling of the laziness that now occupies her soul,
She has no interest in pursuing the matter,
Insisting the equation is too complex to even consider;
The last forty-nine words lavish praise on me,
Saying my ability and personality are not in question,
While also apologising for her reluctance to take a dive,
‘You just haven’t found the right person yet’;
In all, one hundred and ninety words were typed,
Authenticating that my grasp was not only too weak
But also that my target never existed,
Her feelings died a long time ago;
Shadows, out of reach, shrink and vanish,
Hope, fading away, flickers and dies,
Dreams, hazy and fuzzy, disappear,
Reality, harsh and cruel, returns;
One hundred and ninety words bring me back to the start again,
But not without one last fond gaze toward the past
That occupied the present for such a long time,
Memories aren’t reality, a lesson that has taken a long time to sink in…

One hundred and ninety words were used to tell me what I’ve feared for months,
One hundred and ninety words were used to tell me what one word could easily have told,
One hundred and ninety words confirmed I’d been chasing a shadow all this time,
One hundred and ninety words destroyed any lingering hope living in the dreams of a deserted heart…

One hundred and ninety words give me the closure I needed so long ago…
Now it’s time to start letting go.

Which Way?

Is this all I’m able to give,
a collection of sad stories
that make people wonder
how it is I smile so wide?
Is this all I’m capable of,
writing my feelings down
and typing them up for the world to see,
even while knowing they’re all
just destined for the rubbish bin?
Is this worth it,
writing about nothing but doom and gloom,
when perspective should have taught me
the value of what I have?
Have I failed him
by not learning from the decision he took,
the consequences it brought
and the questions it left unanswered?
Have I failed everyone
by not confiding in them the truth
of the battles I fight in the dark,
by not telling them,
‘yes, his plan is my plan,
our thoughts align in our choice of demise’?
Am I being selfish,
for seemingly taking advantage of a writing utensil
to glorify the poor state of mind
I have fallen into for no legitimate reason?
Am I being unfair
to all the people who I have, or haven’t,
written about over the years,
and to all those I will write about in the future?
Where does it all end,
this futile game of cat and mouse
with the people in my life
and the storm inside?
How do I know when to stop
the madness of the deprecation,
the use and abuse of the pen
and the obsession with a past
that should remain where it sits in time?
What do I do,
do I say farewell to everyone
and dig myself a grave next to the Big Man’s,
or do I fight a battle that can’t be won
and die on my feet, not in the air?

In the end, which way is bravest in the eyes of everyone
and less pathetic to the eyes of myself?

The Mocking

Blind to reality,
That’s when life plays tricks,
You think things have changed,
Only to realise they’re actually the same;
It’s too late now,
A forward movement has blocked
A path that seemed barred,
But was only hidden;
Now the feelings of all
Are thrown carelessly into the air,
While I sit and watch them fall,
Trying to choose whose to catch
And whose to let smash;
Time was long spent
Searching for the thing
To help me forget,
But when I found it,
I just wanted to remember again;
Now I stand at a crossroads,
The choice seems to mock me,
Go down a road that’s a certain dead end,
Or go down a familiar path
That may not be open to me,
What do I do?

I sleep and dream of a place
Where things might actually go back to how they were,
I walk into this imagined place,
And there she stands, centre of it all,
Enticing me with her beckoning finger
And her shining eyes;
I get to the centre, to where everyone’s gaze
Is attentively and unwaveringly fixed;
We smile at each other and our eyes close,
The kiss I’ve been longing for is so close now
I can almost taste it;
Yet, just as I wait for our lips to press passionately,
I feel her vanish from my grasp,
I re-open my eyes and am horrified at her disappearance;
I look around, gripped by panic,
This is not how dreams are meant to be,
The room filled to capacity, with faces towering over me, either side,
Is a wall of noise, of jeers and manic laughter;
One by one, recognisable faces appear in the wall,
The faces of those I thought were close to my heart,
And then, I see her face, laughing at me,
Joining in the mocking of my weakness,
Whilst shouting down at me,
‘You’ll never touch these lips again.’