Poetically Healing by Aaron Matthew Beharry

I buried myself so deep in my thoughts, all alone with nowhere to go.

I’m still the same man that everyone knew, it’s just you.

Slowly I breathe to help save the trees from emitting oxygen for me to breathe.

I see you, a blurred face that approaches me in the mirror of the dark and dusty room.

I wish I can hug myself, all past, present and future.

It’s like the sun rose from the opposite direction, the moon drifted away, and the birds barked instead of tweeting.

We’re just a spectacle of dust compared to those who’ve lived on the earth before.

It’s like my dreams aren’t meant for reality at all.

The light of my future, my destiny.

In a world where lies devour my life, I am blinded, and cannot see the light.

Where is the key to the lock?

Taking a deep breath in and then slowly breathing out, I found myself in the front seat of your car.

I’ll give anything to love myself in this wrecked body of mines.

With chitter and chatter like unruly men, we quarrel and argue till we’re dead.

I went through a decade of disaster and I’m happier than ever.

For you have caused pain all the days I held on to you.

For my cries express my weaknesses and no one can help me revive.

All the love that we had secretly just vanished. It disappeared like it never happened at all.

A few days after the ritual, we started to argue.

The rage, the pain, and the weakness made me take two steps back.

If only I can run away from this life. I will make wherever a paradise.

I want to see, I need to see. You’re basically killing me.

But I promise that I will be there in your time of need.

I call upon the spirits sleeping. Wake up, and serve me. I shall bring death to life.

The demon that mirrors my face, leaps toward me, grabs my legs, and pulls me deep.

Feeling the heat right in between our bodies when they lie together burns the hate toward our love.

My eyes glittery, my hands soft to the touch, and my voice crackles when I respond to your questions.

For my pain has been buried within. My tears cannot flow. For it dried up like a river. Whose banks never flowed over.

Personal poems from Aaron Matthew Beharry which helped him heal through difficult times. This is Poetically Healing hosted by Aaron Matthew Beharry under Falcon Atlantic Publishers Limited.