On the Way to Healing.

imageBefore we heal, we must suffer. It’s the natural order. Before we heal, we must suffer. It’s the natural order. Before we heal, we must suffer. It’s the natural order.
Before we heal, we must suffer. It's the natural order.

They say the passage of time will heal all wounds. But the greater the loss, the deeper the cut, and, the more difficult the process to become whole again. The pain may fade but scars serve as a reminder of our suffering. And, the bearer all the more resolved never to be wounded again. We suffer when we don’t want to accept some beloved’s hand in the pain, and we suffer when we don’t want to let go. So, as time moves along, we get lost in the distractions, act out in frustration, react with aggression, give in to anger. And, all the while, we plot and plan as we wait to grow stronger. And, before we know it, the time passes. We are healed, ready to begin anew.





Under the façade of sarcasm and insults
Hides an insecure girl who is trying to hide her most recent wounds.
They are fresh, gaping, bleeding.
She hopes nobody would smell the stench of hurt.
She hopes nobody sees through to the bone deep disappointment.

Under the façade of winged eyeliner and smoky eyes
Cowers an ugly girl who hates the curve of her hips and the thick of her thighs.
She hates it so much.
She hopes nobody ever discovers how deep that hate runs.
Her fuck-all attitude is all she has left.

Under the façade of the resting bitch face
Lives a mean cunt who used to burst into laughter at the dumbest of things.
Her laughter was the weirdest sound.
She hopes nobody hears it again.
She doesn’t want to be funnier than the joke anymore.

Under the façade of the rebel
Survives the most difficult shit they ever came across.
Why does she have to make everything so difficult?
Why is she so stubborn?
Why does she never listen?
She hopes nobody discovers she had listened a little too well once upon a time.
She doesn’t want anybody to hear her agreement when it isn’t given, ever again.

She wants to be heard loud and clear when she smacks that asshole with the big no of her rebellion.
She wants to laugh in the face of the rejection of “Boys will be Boys”.
She wants to embrace her curves when they won’t pose a risk of her wanting it.
She wants to accept her dose of pain when she believes her wounds will be scars one day;
When she believes they can heal.

She doesn’t yet.
And if she doesn’t ever, she will be the sarcastic bitch with the fuck-all attitude who can rebel like nobody’s business.
It’s more fun anyway.



A Story to Tell.

And when they

Ask why when

She opens her

Mouth she only

Spills poetry,

She replies,

“My Heart broke

One too many times.

Now every piece has

A story to tell.

Poetry gives the story




What Heartbreak looked like.

When I’d told her I understood, I’d lied.

I hadn’t any idea what heartbreak looked like.

I hadn’t known looking into the mirror

Looked like staring at a corpse.

I hadn’t known heartbreak looked like

A decaying mass of red in the cavity

Where your heart is supposed to be.

I hadn’t known what heartbreak looked like then.



Summer’s here.

And, when he turned

The corner and found

Summer standing

At the bend of the road,

He exhaled slowly and realised

He could get over the disappointing past.

The seasons were changing.

Summer was just around

The corner afterall.🐚



Ready to Live.

She sat down on the window sill

And stared as time passed her by.

Remembering the hurt one last time,

She spread the ashes of her past

On a mild breeze

And watched the days

Poignant with her grief flutter away.

She was finally free.

She was ready to live.

Once again.