No Pictures In The Picture Frames in Writings

Revised: 09/09/2014 8:10 p.m.

  • Aug. 26, 2009, midnight
  • |
  • Public

Heavy are the burdens, the haunting memories that drags me backwards. Preventing the movement of time. Standing still inside of moments, breathing only to kill time and reach an hours end. To reach an invisible light, that I pray will find me when I’m spent. Smiling only to play the part, incessant beating so I’ll remember that I have a broken heart. The tears cannot drown me, settling in my puddle of sorrow. I dwell alone beside my final day’s fading shadow.

I don’t struggle to catch my breath, as my heart beat drones on, endlessly, without purpose. Without the eyes to see finite beauty, the infinite feels like decay.

Unable to find an open door, walking down the corridor, feeling the pulsating echo in every step that resonates off of empty walls. No pictures in the picture frames. I seek to fill them with photographs.

I spit upon the memories that I find I hold so dear. I was submerged inside confusion, thus the conclusion is unclear. I kissed my last regrets goodbye, and put them somberly back to bed, yet I can’t stop the dreams that come to me when I rest my weary head. I find myself lost inside of substance, and how I long to dream. I run away from every thought, I’ve convinced myself is make believe. Yet I dance motionless inside the moonlight of evenings that were all in vain. I drown inside these tears I cry, replaying the memories, reliving the pain. I break down inside of moments, curl up beside myself and my lost desires. I pray, I plead, I beg, I wait for just one reason to have to smile.

Distance grows as time treads on, tears fall still, repeatedly. Memories cripple me. Like a plague, each one I wish I could cure, I wish I could erase. I cannot find my way.
Shed a tear for me, will you please? To show I left a mark, because the ones who come and go, who make no measure on the heart, aren’t like the ones that choose to linger, or like the ones who alter our path. They aren’t like the ones who leave us wounded, or the ones who wore only masks. Leaving me here questioning every footstep I have made, every time I said “I love you”.. Every moment I gave my heart away.

Along a barren road I travel alone without direction, I have been misguided, and have become lost in this abyss. The resentment that follows me is a daily dosage of the painful dagger of reality. The once meaningful past has become a mirage. A vision that was never real. I am angry for being so deceived by it. All of the moments turned their back on me, it is like the realization that your friends were always your foes, waiting for your weakest moment before they took their stab and left you wounded by the battle you never intended to fight, and never had the chance to win.

The strangers I’ve left behind me are like ghosts. The phantom moments of affection. The creases in my face that once wore smiles. It is not the time I left behind me, and the many moments wasted that fill me with anger, it is instead, the fact that I have yet to recover. The lessons I might have learned have no purpose if they cannot be applied. I did not come out the other end to find the sun on the horizon. It was something I expected, and with patience I told myself it would come. It would be worth it all. Yet .. nothing. This is why I wish I could erase the moments that led me here. I followed a fading light that was only a facade, and when I reached the end of that long road, I was left in the darkness, with nothing to guide me. My resent cannot be denied, and it’s distribution is both on the ones who broke my heart, and on God. I want to understand the time. I want to understand the heartache. I want to walk forward, with my head held high. The abundance of shame I feel is so heavy.

Last updated June 07, 2017

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