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Wounded Memories

~ Anonymous place to let spill my wounded memories

Wounded Memories

Monthly Archives: September 2014

There Are Some Things the Rain Can’t Wash Away

24 Wednesday Sep 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Poetry

≈ 2 Comments

Tags

angry, dark, Death, memories, Poetry

There are just some things
That the rain can’t wash away
Not sins and not memories
History just can’t be undone

I still hop the train once in a while
And walk that sidewalk downtown
Sometimes I imagine
The bloodstains are still there

But of course they aren’t
The rain has washed them away
Far better than time has done
At washing away the memories

How quickly things changed
That sunny summer day
How much some things
Just seem to stay the same

I still love to stand out in the rain
With my face tilted to the sky
Hoping that there are things inside
That the rain can finally wash away

Some Scars Have Names

22 Monday Sep 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Memories, Poetry

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

dark, memories, Poetry, scars

As a child
Some of my scars
Had names
I held onto them
To the point
Of self destruction

Some of those names
I held onto
Until I was an adult
When I went back
And remind those names
Of the things they did

There were times
That I left scars
On those
That scarred me
Call me a monster
But it felt good

Dark Passages

21 Sunday Sep 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Poetry

≈ 3 Comments

Tags

dark, Poetry, survive

Sometimes
We have to turn off
What ever light
We have inside
To survive
The dark passages
That we sometimes
Have to travel
And we must do it
Alone

I’ve been through
Those darkest paths
Shut off
From the rest
Of the world
And become
The dark thing
I needed to be
To get through
To the other side

But that’s the problem
Isn’t it
Once you’ve let it in
The darkness
Never quite
Goes away
It clings to you
Inside of you
Becomes part
Of who you are

So if that’s the choice
The only one
Light
But dead
Or dark
And survive
Then it isn’t a choice
Not for those of us
That only know
How to survive

Walking Away

19 Friday Sep 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Poetry

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Tags

hope, Loss, Love, Poetry

I’ve always had the strength
I need to walk away
I just never wanted to use it
Always thinking
That we will find our way

I’m not ready just yet
To look for the exit
I need you in my heart
The good of you
Still far outweighs any bad

But I’m scared
That when I decide
I can take no more
And I am ready
That the strength will be gone

Locked

19 Friday Sep 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Poetry

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Tags

ghosts, Poetry

Doors
And windows locked
But still they came
They never even knocked
The ghosts were angry
Tired of this little game
And now we were trapped
Inside this house
With ghosts
That knew my name
It wouldn’t help
To scream and shout
Nor try to find
Some way out
We should have left the doors
Unlocked

Gently She Cried

16 Tuesday Sep 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Memories, Musings, Poetry

≈ 4 Comments

Tags

musings, Poetry, true story

Gently she cried
I never knew why
I just held her
Until her tears
Had dried

I never knew her name
She never knew mine
Our stories
Unknown to each other
But forever
Intertwined

This is an odd but true story. About 15 years ago I got on the metro riding home after working very late one evening.

The train was almost empty when I got on, but there was a woman sitting near the door with her head bowed down. I remember she was probably in her late 30’s, early 40’s, dark hair about shoulder length.

That was all I could tell because her head was bowed down. At first I thought she was sleeping, but after a stop or so, I noticed she was softly crying.

I don’t know why I did it, but I switched seats to sit next to her. She never looked up, I never saw her face. I leaned next to her and slid my arm around her shoulder.

In retrospect, I’m surprised she didn’t react violently… a giant 6’3 man in his mid twenties sitting down next to her putting his arm around her. We’re I in her shoes I think I might have.

But she didn’t. She leaned into me, head on my shoulder and cried.

I missed my stop, but knew I couldn’t move, so I just sat. For several stops she cried, but at some point she stopped. She still didn’t move, she just sat there. And so I sat there, not moving a muscle.

We never said a word until one of the stops she stood up, and muttered thank you without ever looking at me and she left the train. I didn’t respond. To this day I can’t remember why not. Whether I was stunned, afraid to break some spell, or simply lost in the moment, I still don’t know.

I could have gotten off, I still needed to switch trains to back tack, but I didn’t. I sat there almost stunned.

Some times I regret not speaking, not finding out more. But usually not. There is something almost spiritual about that event.

I still think about that night sometimes. Wondering what her story was. Wondering if she wonders what mine was.

It’s interesting how our lives intersect; sometimes violently, sometimes gently, almost imperceptibly.

The Way You Justified It All

15 Monday Sep 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Poetry

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

dark, memories, Poetry

It always seemed so easy
The way you justified it all
No matter your actions
The fault was never your own

Breaking an already
All too broken boy
Because someone else
Had already broken you

You told your story
About how bad it was
As if that somehow
Made it all seem ok

Because they were monsters
To you as little boy
You thought it wasn’t your fault
That you had become one too

It always seemed so easy
The way you justified
Your sins against me
With the sins against you

You Ran Away

13 Saturday Sep 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Musings

≈ 5 Comments

Tags

Goodbye

I’ll never thank you
For running away
But I’ll respect
That you wanted to
Or needed to
And I’ll stop chasing
It aches just saying that
Fucking aches
My dragons hurt
And so do I
It will never be the same
And I guess this is as close
As I will get to saying
I love you, Goodbye

I Know What Pain Is

13 Saturday Sep 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Poetry

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Anger, pain, Poetry, Sorrow

I know what pain is
It’s broken mirrors
And bloody knuckles

I know what pain is
It’s scattered dreams
And twisted nightmares

I know what pain is
It’s dark and dusty rooms
And innocence lost

I know what pain is
It’s a broken family
And terrible secrets

I know what pain is
It’s loving someone
And not being loved back

I know what pain is
It’s uneven graves
And tarnished headstones

I know what pain is
It’s masks with fake smiles
And the ugly truth beneath

I know what pain is
It’s who I am
And everything I’m not

I know what pain is
It’s that day you died
And I did not

How Do We

12 Friday Sep 2014

Posted by woundedmemories in Musings

≈ 6 Comments

Tags

Life, Thoughts

How do we go back and undo the things we’ve done? How do we put them back to the way they were? How do we move forward when the current pulls us back?

I don’t know the answers to any of these, and more importantly, I don’t know if we should even if we knew how.

As enticing as backwards looks, it never leads anywhere. Forward may not lead to where we want to be, but at least it leads us somewhere.

So maybe the question isn’t “how do we go back?” But rather “how do we live with what’s forward?”

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