Friday Poetry: "Cages"

Hi all, A not-so-wonderful day again today. Kind of looking forward to holing up in my room and not interacting with any human beings at all over the weekend. I might get some writing done too, but I'm not sure - songs, more likely. Music tends to flow easier in harder times, I think. By the way, thank you for all your lovely comments on the previous post - they means the world, and you guys are so sweet. This week's Friday Poetry was inspired by Leanne - her blog She's in Prison is one of my favourites, and I could connect too well with her latest poem. This is almost purely a fictional poem (slight elements of reality, but really nothing too major), and I hope you guys like it. Have a great weekend, everyone.

love, Topaz


they tell me that my heart is the size of my fist

ever pulsing, ever quivering with the kind of life you could easily miss simply by gazing into my eyes and seeing the kind of desolation that comes from living life at a million miles per hour and crashing too hard against a brick wall

it is the perfect size for someone else’s fist to come hurtling through my ribcage and beat my heart until it is black and blue

but sometimes you don’t need a fist just a lopsided smile that stays firmly affixed even as you somehow worm your way into my darkest cages and tear apart everything every atom of fragile strength that I built up once upon a time from the debris of a wrecking ball of the ghost of a smile that looked uncanily similar to yours

there’s an ache in my chest that seems to be permanently affixed as much a part of me as my heart or lungs or my 1-2-3-4-5-6-7-8-9-10-11-12 ribs the same number as always, meant to protect me from feeling too much or hurting too deep or falling head over heels for the kind of danger that will only turn into another faded scar

but still, late in the night when I dream of shadows that should not be spoken of in the golden-washed daylight the ache steals back into my chest recurring, as if I cannot ever reach in and steal it away, and hide it back in the cages of my own making where dark things dwell and ghosts of smiles linger

they tell me that my heart is the size of my fist

but no one ever told me why it hurts so much to dream of danger and to chase a treacherous lie until the black and blue bruises fade away and my ribcage opens and I cannot find the key to lock it away as its contents are beaten to the ground once again