Anonymous Comfort

Hey You,

There is something fantastically beautiful about being completely utterly and forever anonymous. I tell you things that I would never tell anyone else ever… which means we’re closer than I’ll ever be to any other human being in ‘real’ life EVER. Isn’t that magical? It means I get to tell you my deepest, darkest secrets, my most intimate intimidating fears, my realest hopes and dreams and beliefs…and you never judge me…because you don’t know me…you don’t have a name for me….other than the alias I put on wordpress…I am nameless to you, worthless in a way, and yet…you’re always here….whenever I need you…

This blank canvas in front of me…it never changes…its always ready to accept my latest failure, absorb my most painful tears…those ones that I don’t cry in front of anyone else ever…absorb my latest hopes… And when I’m gone one day…those fears, those hopes, the things I’ve seen and the way that they made me feel…will still be here…words on paper…whispers in the wind.

Isn’t that mindblowing?

Also, I just made another one of my blog posts into an audio post…wanna have a listen and let me know what you think? 🙂 Would appreciate it. Thank you for listening…always…I love you…

Audio Blog Entry from 2 August 2020 – Miss Nothing:

This is how an angel falls

The tears run down her face. She makes no sound.

Like blood flowing freely from an open wound.

So do the tears flow from her eyes.

Her laugh is silent.

Although these days she hardly ever laughs like she used to.

The wolves have all but stayed…

Eating her up from the inside out.

Like a candle that burns brightly, flickering through the night

When it burns too violently, it will soon burn out

Engulfed.

By the dark.

The darkness lives inside her.

Like a nightmare, like a spider

Like a something that was never

and was never meant to be.

Loneliness is her company

no matter how many people she sees

because her heart has gone a bit fridget

a bit broken,

A bit unhinged

Slightly crazy

Not always all there

She cannot remember

A time that she really cared

Not anymore

The hands of men have burnt scars on her body

The tongues of women have left just as many

Its her soul that’s at risk here

Its her heart that cries over spilt milk

Its her everything

and nothing at all

This nothingness

This is how an angel falls.

This poem was inspired by me listening to one of my new favorite songs during the period in which I was waiting on my divorce to be finalised…