leaving me here

There are few things in life that hurt worse than knowing you are being used. It is easier to live in ignorance than to face this truth. Experiencing death, pain and tragedy are unbearable but there is something about a human acting inhuman towards another that just cuts deeper. These are the scars that people hold close to their heart and can't ever forget, these are the stories that fall from drunk peoples lips night after night, these are the wounds that alter people's lives.

I see a living hell in random people's eyes everyday. Hell is nothing more than a place void of human value and love, a very true existence for many here on earth. When someone you love dies, we grieve their loss because of all that person gave. Give and you will experience heaven on earth, take and you only bring hell. But what happens when two people set out to use each other? It might be safe to say that these people only ever experience the abyss of loneliness. No matter how mutual the agreement to use each other is, the gaping hole is large enough for everyone to see.

I want to forgive those who have used me. Maybe this is why I am watching the sunrise over Toronto, it's time I let it go. I forgive you as I have been forgiven and I deeply apologize to those I have brought hell to. Wether I stole a kiss or a placed you in a thought, I held you with no value. I am sorry.

It's lonely when your mind is caught in a painting or a memory, you have everything but the words to describe it. Often I lay awake at night letting my mind bounce off the walls and roll through the colors. Somewhere along the way I forgot how to let it out. I once knew the way to stare out a window, the way that would energize me.

Maybe my attention doesn't have a disorder. Perhaps it has wandering feet or it's wings just need stretching. Did the world captured me in a mason jar just to hold me? Will I wait behind the glass to die? I must find a way out to feel the sun on my skin, I want to feel what is really there.

The weight of time is pressing my skin until it just folds. Perhaps there's a few buried secrets beneath the rolling hills on my hands, somewhere underneath it all I find myself. When I was really little I would listen for the hum of my mothers voice in the other room to fall asleep, it reminded me that the day was not over yet. There was this comfort in knowing I was not leaving for dreams alone.

It was always right before I fell asleep when I’d get that late night call. An old lover never calls during the day, always at night. The darkness has a way of cutting everyone down. It’s at the end of the day when you remember all the things that you really wanted to do but forgot. It’s a sting I hate to feel, every night.