the accidental poet

I walk along a beach at sunset, thinking,
Who am I? Where am I? What has happened to me?
What is it They’ve done to me?
And who are They?

The only image that comes to mind is,
one of a beautiful maiden,
with flowing auburn hair,
and deep dark eyes that tell all.

I sit on the beach and think of her.
Of her beauty which knows no bounds.
She is intelligent, swift, and clever.
She could strike me down in an instant.

Small memories of her filter through;
a touch of hands, the closeness of bodies.
The way our lips would meet…
if only in my heart and mind.

And then in a flood of memories,
it all comes back to me.
Her name, who she is, and what she’s done to me;
who They are, and what They’ve done to me.

I can remember it all so clearly,
I told her of my thoughts, how I felt.
I brought her a rose and asked her to be mine,
She just laughed and turned away.

And she wasn’t the only one who laughed.
They laughed, They jeered, They taunted
me with words of, “I told you so!”
Hatred for Them and her seethes within me.

But how can I hate one such as her?
The hatred I feel I know is only skin deep.
it masks the undying love I hold for her,
and can never lose.

But how can I love one that doesn’t love me?
I ask myself that question yet again.
Then I think of her beauty and charm.
How can I not love her?

Her companionship tells me of riches to behold.
Just being in her presence is a treasure.
I would sit and dream of how to get close,
and smell the fragrance of perfection.

Now I sit here alone on the beach hugging my knees.
I think of the afternoon that drove me here.
A rose of the reddest nature was my gift to her.
A symbol of the heart I had given her long ago.

Turned away was my rose, turned away was my heart.
It hurts me to think that my heart is wasted.
For all those years my heart was hers,
and no one elses.

In those few moments, all my dreams lay shattered
around her feet like a circle of guilt.
The shards damning her because she had
captured my heart and broke it.

The sunset on the water is so beautiful, so red
like the hair I will never be able to stroke.
With the sunset comes the darkness of night,
staring accusingly at me as if it knows…

Now I sit here on the beach, surrounded by reminders of her.
I secretly vow to myself, “I will try again,”
but alas, I fear, she will never be mine,
alas, I fear, she can never be mine.

I move closer, closer.
if I give myself up to you, what will be left?
how can I be me
if I give a part of my soul to you?
these thoughts move
through my mind as I move closer, closer.
so instead of giving
I pull away, leaving you hanging there.
I want to express myself
but I am afraid of what will happen to my Soul.
my Soul – my protection
my Soul – my mind, my protective womb, my Citidel.
that Castle that used to be
the one place I could go to be alone
is now the one place
I cannot break myself out of. a Prison.
I sit and stare at the
bleak walls of my Fortress and wonder, ‘how long?’
how long until I can
break free of the chains that bind me in my Castle?
so I bide my time until
there is a Break in the wall. a Crack. a Rift.
So that the sun can break through
and I will be free to live again.

I look around me but what do
I see? besides my lonely self, nothing. nothing
Here for me to do but take pity on myself.
But i seem to be doing an awful lot of that
These days. and then when i have an off day
I can’t get them out of my hair. they just won’t
leave me alone.

“Get Away!” I scream at them from my safe stronghold, my
Castle. i reach out to a cold unfeeling world and shrink
Back from the touch. it’s like ice, so cold. it burns
To touch it. so here i am, nursing my burning wound,
Wondering if i can go on. hoping i might have the strength.
But thinking i probably won’t. just being here seems to
Be too painful for me.

They try to comfort me and console me. but i know their plans. i’m
Not stupid. they think i’m dumb. but i’m not so much stupid as
I am a little bit crazy. but aren’t we all? from the smartest
Man to the dumbest, there’s that spark of insanity. in some
It flickers. in others it dies out. still in others it flares up
and they’re carted off to face who knows what? living in
Their own world of dreams while reality goes by around them. Those
In their own world are the lucky ones. they don’t have to
Face the every day problems of life. they can sit back and dream
Of good things while bad things happen. it’s really like my own
Castle. the one i can shut myself up in when times go bad. but i still
Need that dose of reality per day to keep me from going completely
Over the edge. I would have been absolutely gone had it not
Been for my Rock, my Castle.