Poetry Writing

remembrance and morphine

I’m not ready to write him.
Not ready to let him come
back to life.
I don’t want to remember the good.
I don’t want to relive the bad.
If I don’t cry about it soon,
tears will have to start seeping
from every pore
and fall from my lashes like
snowflakes blown off of telephone wires,
buzzing, alive, alone.

I miss the beautiful destruction.
I miss throwing myself onto
hot coals for another human being.
Feeling another’s glowing embers
embedded into my flesh,
eating it away.

But I do not miss any of them.
I don’t miss the first one I loved,
his turquoise smell or loaded kisses.
I don’t miss the second,
his day-old scruff and deceit.
I don’t miss the third,
lovely and loving and lost.

Even though I don’t miss them,
there are some I cannot bring
myself to write.
Still too fresh, still too bright,
still too real and sharp.
The pen has turned into an IV,
and it’s full of remembrance
instead of morphine.

via *


  • Paulo Gonçalves

    Hi there!
    Your blog is Amazing!
    My is just a simple one.

    Paulo Gonçalves

  • ivette

    geez! seriously?…i swear you just read my mind, im going through this exact thing… so painful, so rare, so complicated, so deceiving…who to trust? the brain or the heart? the gut or the fear? the goid or the bad? revive the memories or let them pass?….i get so lost in such things… life's full of tough choices, especially when it comes to love

  • bianca lolita

    Thank you so much for visiting and commenting my blog. Yours is amazing. I love your writing style, I'm now following<3


  • Sharlotte.

    EeE This was so deep! <3

    Sharlotte xxx

  • Ryan

    "The pen has turned into an IV,and it's full of remembrance instead of morphine."

    That sounds like something I would say. Nice writing.

  • S.

    you're one of my favorites, you know.


  • AVY

    I never trust the heart because it doesn't tell my what I want to hear. Love your world.



  • helen

    i know. x

  • D

    reading your words i always feel so much.

  • Niki

    my heart is always in charge of me.I hate it.xx

    dreaming is believing

  • lacey

    the past is exactly that-in the past, it is loaded and vivid and painful, and if i dwell on it too much, it runs rampant and ruins my moving forward. it's like this dangerous game that's fun to play until it's not. good words!


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