She Waits For The Inevitable
Wishing it was not the case
She carries the weight of her world upon aching shoulders,
Knowing the time to come will test her will,
Hidden behind toffee toughened scarring and blemished skin,
She oozes a soft centre, invisible to all but a few.
**
She lays awake at 2am often wondering,
Will she ever get to tell her side of the story?
She knows she walks on borrowed time,
As she waits for the tipping of the scales.
**
Will they fall in her honour or are they weighted with regret?
For buried deep she has so much that needs to be said,
But then again — she feels you already know,
Know the words that sit heavily unspoken upon a numb heart.
**
The clock ticks and she is aware of the consequences,
Aware that her silence could be the broken back she fears,
Tomorrow is possibly the day of retribution,
Still her heart cries in silence, her words lost in today.
**
She knows you sit and watch the stars, wondering,
Trying to understand the silence of the years,
She feels the same pain that hardens your heart,
The same sleeplessness, never knowing if there’ll be time.
**
Miles seperate the broken veins stretched thin,
She lives with the hope she’ll one day find the words,
Knowing that you fail to understand,
Will she ever find the forgiveness she seeks, or live with a regretful eternity?
**
She lets go, knowing it’s out of her hands,
She walks alone — forever alone,
Acceptance her lot in life,
Knowing the healing you both need, may forever be out of reach.
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
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More stories from Colleen Millsteed and writers in Poets and other communities.
After the Storm
After the storm of winter snow there sat a small bear by the name Ted, of course. He loves the snow and likes to roll around in it making all sorts of trails and whatever he has a mind to do. He wondered where all the people are, but in a way, he is hoping that they are all snug in the homes maybe drinking hot chocolate-one of his favorite drinks with mini-marshmallows and eating something homemade for he likes this winter wonderland all to himself to romp and play and maybe even catch some fish down by the river.
By Mark Graham5 days ago in Fiction
Comments (1)
Sometimes it do be that way, sadly. Loved your poem!