Jaded. Fragmented. Fallen.
Always Rising.

Thursday, October 20, 2005
09:47 a.m.
a sigh.
she doesn't know where to begin.
where to look. wat to do with her hair.
so she sits there. staring into the mirror.
the glass telling lies.
painting her beautiful
painting her in this soul with thorns.
she lowers her gaze.
doesn't want the tears to fall. really everything is alright.
a sigh.
she's trying to control herself-
she can't control anything else.
her hair falls softly in her eyes-
distracted she fingers her scars.
no longer jagged. no longer bleeding.
just smooth. soft. reminders of wat could have been.
wat has been.
another sigh.
she looks up
and thru a teary smile she brushes her hair out of the way.
those eyes don't lie-
but they don't lead either.
-alysia-

Wednesday, October 19, 2005
08:16 p.m.
you have a beautiful soul
he says that. out of no where. and i'm startled.
i put my tea down and find myself smiling.
it's good to know that sumone believes in me-
i've been lost in this cloud for so long now
that i don't remember wat storm brought me here.
i miss the beauty of dandelions. and sun. and rainbows.

all i can taste is the rain.
and i find beauty in that. in the things i cannot see,
but the walk is weary and i'm tired of walking in circles.

a vicious cirlce.
i remember those words being defined as me,
as who i was supposed to be
and appeared to those under the storm.
i can't seem to get myself under anything.
the thought is singular and dirty.
but with all the blood on these hands,
i'm not sure i can even tell.
-alysia-

Wednesday, October 19, 2005
08:07 p.m.
a pause in the music. it's abrupt and startling.
it removes her disguise.
which is all fer the best anyway.
she was never good at covering up her unlies.
the toxic perfumes of the logic of men,
the masks at which the children hide in.
they are all too real in night.
they are all too vivid when she looks into the mirror.
the jaded glass never fades
and the cuts only grow deeper.
and tonight? in the moment of silence- - -
the blood is all too read,
and his voice way too clear.
-alysia-

Wednesday, October 19, 2005
07:58 p.m.
i did everything i said i would never do.
i did everything i didn't know i would ever do.
he brought that out in me.
the woman that's been hiding within me for years.
the one that has watched the stubborn poet drown in her passion.
stumble blindly into the places her heart would lead her.
that poet didn't have anything to fight for.
she was used. washed up. broken.
flying on shattered wings and on weightless dreams 'n' notions.
she wore faded colors that made the men stare.
she was jaded by those men.
yet she didn't even open her eyes then.
she trudged on telling hereself that still her life was better than some
and she needed to get society to open their eyes.
it hurt to open hers.
she was all alone.
she already knew that.
saw that when she looked into that mirror.
she didn't need the confirmation of sight.
she didn't need anybody.

he ignored that poet.
admired and respected that poet.
but loved her for the woman inside.
not the tortured spirit. not the tortured poet.
he loved her.
and she loved him back. fiercely and unexpected.
found herself loving his arm around her.
his support. her dependence on him for the little things.
loved her identity with him. for she was still herself,
but she wasn't alone.

i stood up to him.
i fought for him.
i confronted him.
i let hot stinging tears run down my face.
i yelled at him.
i fought with him.
i let him see pieces i never listened to.
i never wanted to.
the poet was always primary.
hidden beneath this hair. beneath these eyes.
his love broke thru that poet. and now she's lost him.
i still have the love,
and am not broken and alone without him.
she's smiling.
and it strikes me as odd. and wonderful.
makes me realize that i'm ready.
ready to fight for sumone's heart.
ready to lay it down.

because tho the poet is wonderful-
it's too dark when the light's on.
-alysia-