My Life

Pain and suffering fill the lonely heart that knows none of the love
- who find others happy and full of glee.
Learned tentativeness envelops the soul,
allowing none entrance; a barrier of phobic behaviors.
Tantalizing?  No.
Rigid and unerringly obstinate, understanding none but ugliness named upon;
Peer pressure pressing the typecasting until is reality.
It is reality now.
So weary of the maliciousness of the world,
continuing to batter judgment upon judgment on the unknown.
I am unknown.
So they know me, or their Judgments of me.
Isolation is better than the crude
acceptance of popularity in which all is lost.
Or is it?
It will never know; the heart is not wanton and daring.
She is heavy with the love not given,
so empty with the love not received
- not even by those who should give
unconditionally and without grudge or need to dominate,
to rule by fear.
Nevertheless, they do;
resentful of what my existence did not bind
- dictatorship rules with angst by the whips of verbal and physical blows,
love shown in small tangible gestures,
thoughtfully given, though carelessly shown.
Love shown after inflicting childish pain with cosseting,
using money as an apology.
Too late.
Here upon adulthood,
given early by the Power of the miracle of a tiny love,
waiting with eagerness to live and to be given a chance;
a chance that shall be given.
All costs aside, the chance born with the seizure and explosion.
The nurturing womb now empty,
endless love in my arms.
Alone I love.
Year after year, alone...
Best, yes, for the love in my arms,
but the bitterness grows in me.
The heart forever open and full;
love poured upon the only, a chance given.
Animosity escalated, no longer for the love that I will give, alone,
But again for the loneliness that invades the heart.
Lightning streaks of pain surging with every desire lost,
every fairytale life consumed.
Desire bound unused, never knowing the salacious thirst;
akin to virginity: pure, innocent
- and needful to lost such vestal lunacy,
despite my past broken celibacy.
Innocence in the Whimsy for the Quest for perfect love
notwithstanding the barriers erected
around and within.
It will be shattered by the effortless intensity;
stealing away my heart with the befuddling understanding of the soul mate
found in the pirouette of confusion,
the harsh staccato of madness galloping;
plummeting to the callousness of reality,
only to fearfully find him but a dream.
Tears streaming, the loss ringing,
the pain woefully agonizing in ghastly delirium -
till my small love rests his tiny hand upon mine,
his Love soothing me.