Skip to main content

I found this in a book of poetry and have no idea how long ago this was written. 


She sat by herself; feeling lonely, but secure.  Secure in knowing that she could trust no one but her own self.  Well, herself and God. But even the God factor had been questioned.  I mean, she never learned to trust those physically there, so the belief that someone she could not see nor feel could be more trustworthy had always been a hard thought to grasp.  She knew that her circle had much love for her.  I mean, it wasn’t the idea of love that she had a problem with.  Although the issue of trust somehow misguided the way she expressed and interpreted love.  The love of her friends and family didn’t mean that she could always count on them.  She learned that lesson at an early age.  People are fallible.  This truth was obtained from those who conceived her.  Humanly good intentions can still yield undesired results. No matter how good the heart of a person, they can still hurt you.  She knew this well.  So even in her loving, she rarely let her guard down.  There were times when she did and regretted it, so she kept that in her mental records.

 She never let any man get the best of her.  I mean, her friends thought she was just joking when she said she’d never been in love, but she wasn’t.  She never freely gave her heart because all of the men she had been involved with were, in her mind, unworthy of it.  She could never take relationships too seriously because she had a certain level of expectation of a man who would be worth spending her life with, and none of them had met that criteria.  It wasn’t that she was unreasonable in her expectations of a man.  She had simply been raised to believe a certain way, and she had yet to come across someone who could compliment her as equally as she would him.  Although her desire for affection had caused her to violate her own boundaries a few times, she never let them get the best of her; always remaining in control and ending things on her own account.  At least she liked to think that none of them had affected her.  But the truth was that, with each encounter something was taken from her soul and deposited from that man just the same.  She just was unwilling to admit, even to herself, that these men had changed her perception on love, life, relationships and left her with issues that needed to be addressed. 


Popular posts from this blog

Dear Melonchaly...

Dear Melancholy, Why do you love me so much?  It seems there isn’t a single part of my life, that you have not touched I don’t want you here, yet still you linger You’ve been a constant companion For as long as I can remember....

APRIL POEMS..... SOMETIME AROUND 2013

Each word is an internal struggle to put on paper It used to be so easy Writing was my refuge, my relief, my savior My pens bled my soul on paper and allowed me to cope like some use razors on skin to bleed their pains Somehow instead of releasing I began to bottle everything inside Killing myself slowly with the toxins I refused to expel Holding my soul My depths My breathe Waiting To Exhale Unconsciously avoiding emotional overload Tears no longer stain my pillows at night because these eyes do not allow emotions to become tangible Everything has been buried so deep and hidden for so long I barely remember the person I used to be Writing is a reminder A glimpse into what was And what could have been Clues to who I refuse to allow myself to become Fighting God, destiny and me Because deep down this suppressed version of who I was slowly gasps for breath Holding onto life and refusing to succumb to an untimely demise Maintaining hope that my pen will once again find its way to a pad of...

Untitled 09122025

 Days like this, I wish I could just sit alone and cry But I have things to do, so I'll try To press through with a smile on my face Wanting to break, but this is not the place Constantly seeking refuge and still have not found That safe space 09.12.2025