Walls once neglected, now stand fully erect, if only to contain the broken parts of the heart, each piece emits its own tiny, faded beat, all randomly echoing like sonar in a last ditched effect to regroup as one. The healed cracks from the past, still visible, run parallel, often crossing these new torn lines. Somehow, as if from memory, the painful lesson doesn't stop it all together, instead, and against my wishes, they deliver enough blood for me not to die.
It doesn't seem possible, for we humans are supposed to learn from our mistakes and grow away from such foolishness. It only took me once to learn to keep my fingers from fire, to respect heights and to come in out of the cold. So why, why do we return to, often the same scene and become repeat offenders when it comes to matters of our hearts? Is it hope? Is it even logical? To keep trying to love someone only to discover you've once more been dealt a losing hand and no matter how much we try to raise the pot, it burns us. Love seems to be the sole emotion that we willingly run with scissors like a small child testing his mom. We simply refuse to stop poking that bear holding our hearts, instead knowing that a long winter of sadness awaits should that bear turn on us. Live and learn? This fool hasn't.
2 comments:
Your description and metaphor really put the reader in your thoughts and heart. I feel most of us can relate to these lines. I know I can! They tell me my picker is broken....I say it was burned beyond recognition and crashed into a cliff but it keeps climbing back up to the same cliff every single time. :-))
Love is, strange as the Doors said....strange how this one emotion can take us into regions beyond our wildest imagination and then into a dungeon of despair. Thank you, Carrie, I really appreciate your feedback and input into these stories, you have been the catalyst into me find my words again!!!
Post a Comment