Dark Corners

I will be forty in seven days

I am reading Angela's Ashes and 

The Bell Jar, talk about despair

I listen to some sad fucking music

And surprise....

I have been weeping 

A lot

About lost friends

Old photographs

Nostalgic memories

And dusty dreams

Aching for the lives

I still want to live

And the ones I never will

There are days when I hate myself

More than my worst enemy

Times I want to tell all my secrets

To the stranger in the dark bar

Shedding the weight of this skin

Along with my identity

Of a woman lost

Being crushed by

A deep loneliness 

Even though I am 

Surrounded

By love

It is inconceivable 

To one who does not

Understand

So I stay busy

Immersing myself in everything

Until it becomes a

Neurotic juggling act

Maddening those closest to me

Because with stillness

Comes a deafening silence

And my inner voice can be heard

Asking too many questions

That I am not prepared to answer

My soul has become so restless

My heart swells every time 

I hear a train in the distance

I am always 

Being pulled

By the Moon and Tide
Loving until my heart ask
How much more

Can you give

Before you lose

Yourself

Completely?

~Amber C. Smith (May 18, 2013)

“I have the choice of being constantly active and happy or introspectively passive and sad. Or I can go mad by ricocheting in between.”

The Journals of Sylvia Plath