Chronically Healing Through Writing

Thoughts of the end -so through a pen I share rawfully honest thoughts. Thoughts about my relationship with chronic pain. Thoughts about the fantasies of romantic love , and the agony when this illusion disappears. The goal is to learn from my own journey through words.

Category: dark poetry

Nothing Left

My love for you provided my own comfort; in retrospect, I was always uncomfortable
I came up empty time after time
You had all the things I wanted someone to give me
So I gave until I had nothing left
I have nothing left
I have nothing left
I have nothing left
Right?

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Ignoring all organ functions

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He said all the wrong things at the right time…but I stayed anyway.
Idiotic is the feeling that rushes through when I realized I ignored the truth.
Giving preference to the illusional delusional characteristics of the heart.
Telling myself the heart is more than an organ.
The heart seemed to have pumped too much rose color nonsense to my brain.
When I am usually Medusa; filled with self created black blood.
With the power of healing my own wounds.
Self inflicted by ignoring my gut
Internally bleeding and regurgitating the red for black.
Deep inside I knew he never had me, or my emotional backing.
Trust. I trusted. I envisioned. I wish I hoped. I did all things a pessimistic Medusa wouldn’t do. Hope.
After the septic shock caused by the bacteria which is he
I then went into cardiogenic shock
I’m now in the garden alone trapped inside my own body.
No brain activity just artificially living and breathing, with the breath of lies that never left.
At one point his breath kept me warm.
No longer a thinking, feeling, loving being.
I live off vaccines
Forever to be punished for listening to the rose colored organ over matter.
Forever to be punished because I been here before, and assumed the same action will produce a different result.
Forever punished for trusting him with my heart-Hoping the gut was telling the brain lies as a defense mechanism.
Forever punished for going in the field of love without armour-again.
I guess I deserve to be a vegetable. I just can’t help but feel  for the next guy who think he will get more added to this meal.
I am a vegetable.