Massacre

I had such a gorgeous post planned in my head. Lying awake last night. Such a gorgeous poem and words that leap into my head that now I cannot recover. I shall piece together mere fragments of last night's thoughts and perhaps it will stir my brain to write when prompted rather than putting things off 'til morn'.

Sometimes war can lead to dispassionate arguments that blow out of proportion to the crimes committed. Such crimes can lead to explosions, heated arguments that raise hell and hurt within hearts not meant to feel such pain. Sometimes this pain is necessary, as these crimes are stirred not by words, but in silence.

Simple massacres of trust.

Fragments of what's left of last night's thoughts...that's what I remember. Just that one phrase I've written around. "Simple massacres of trust". I forget what I compared it to, but then, perhaps I am not meant to remember.

The beautiful little poem...let me begin, and end... I don't remember. I sneezed and wept it all away. Something about hearts that hurt because of love. Out of necessity.

I wanted to mention how hearts speak to one another, but those are not my words. My heart agrees, yet is agitated by philosophy. I was reminded that times change, yet people do not. Yet one must persist in change. What is more constant?

Pain is pain. Yet sometimes I must agree that I would like to hurt...Want to hurt, even. Not hurt someone else, but be hurt. My dreams reflected this just many times, and my reality, just once. I want to feel pain bleed out of my body rather than stay trapped in ones heart for eons. I do not know how. My release long ago was to be hurt. To cry it all away. How does one do that when the mind takes over and the heart refuses to change? How does one switch between the two?

I learned how, a long time ago. I used to enter my little space. My trance-like state where the pain would feel...pleasurable. I do not know how, now. For I am not one heart, but two. And to hurt one is to hurt the other.

I want to feel my pain alone, my mind wants to feel my pain alone and drown in it. My heart wants to ache, my eyes want to cry yet I cannot. I am not trapped, yet I am not free. I want not to hold things in, yet having them felt without voicing them...the sensation eludes me. I am told to be One to be strong, but my heart hesitates to show weakness, when for all these years I have tried to build walls of strength on my own.

I must change. Not for one heart, but two, and we will be the better for it, much like the bundle of sticks that cannot be broken, for alone we are easily led to weakness.