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the scribe's sanity lost to words...writes...writes...writes...

NOTICE: Any use of the work I produce or post on this page is prohibited without permission from me, Kristy Tallman, the author. This includes portions of my writing or my writing in full length. Should this be found to be done by any persons, legal action will ensue by both myself and The Realm of Insanity Press
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Monday, June 08, 2009 

Current mood:  enthralled
Category: Writing and Poetry


ready for love...

body aches,
feel the feelin's
boiling within,

the flame kisses
the waters edge,
slowly laping in and out

like the tides that flow,

she's ready for love,
ready for the explosion
to assault her,
enslaving herself
to the feelin'

the feelin'

running like the wind within,
dew drops upon her lips,
tiny beads of desire
form above her delicate kiss,
a moan escapes her

because she's ready for love,
ready for love,
ready for your breath
to race quietly in her ear,

hearing the beast waking,

the angel dawning,
tender touches solidity,
cries of pleasure echo
against the mountain's range.

her claws seize your back,
as she arches like a bridge,
making way for the oncoming barge,
cutting the water with weight,

your body moves into hers,
thrashing, crashing,
your breath heavy,
a slight moan she hears,

she's ready for love,
yeah she's ready for love,
ready for the rains
to kiss the desert,
quenching her thirst..

the dim lights flicker,
as the jolts of electric fire
surge through her,
like lightning kissing
a starless sky.

you feel the grip,
as the seasons change,
the wet spring water flows,
over your seeds,
they thrust toward the sun,
her phoenix rises,

she's loved,
she's loved,
loved the man for whom
shot the comets from the sky,
drenching her in lust and love,

she's ready for love,
she's loved,
she's loved.....

(c) by Kristy Tallman - June 2009 All rights reserved.

Currently listening:
Original Bad Company Anthology
By Bad Company
Release date: 1999-03-23
3:33 AM 
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Sunday, June 07, 2009 

Current mood:  chill
Category: Writing and Poetry


attention deficit

time is a rollin' - rollin' by
dreams are fulfilling - but always,
always we seek to sleep -
seek to find the dream - the scheme,
the search for more -
i tell you - i tell you,
it's a fucked up world -
a mad sense of swirl,
colors weave into dreams -
dreams captured - captivated
by short term attention deficit
a disorder we chase like the rain,
falling from the sky,
yea time - time is a rollin' by...

sleep makes time roll by - roll by,
seeking for the dreams
the ones that replace the ones
we retain, why - tell me why
are we as a species
never satisfied -
content with the heights we reach,
always reaching for that higher place,
we chase - we capture - we captivate
leaving behind - leaving behind
what it was that we sought to find
a short term attention deficit
a disorder, a mad sense of swirl,
yeah have you noticed? -
have you noticed we live -
we live in a fucked up world,
a fucked up world where time,
yeah time keeps rollin' by,
rollin', rollin' rollin'by....

(c) Kristy Tallman - June 2009 All rights reserved...

Currently listening:
Monkey Business
By Black Eyed Peas
Release date: 2005-06-07
4:46 AM 
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Sunday, May 17, 2009 

Current mood:  artistic
Category: Writing and Poetry


Your Art Of Wooing....


Wooing tis an art,

a sensual crossing of ties,

eyes decent as he looks

into hers so completely,

she searches for the look

which brings forth

a fullness in her heart and soul,

she sits quietly beside

you always uplifting

and supporting

that which she acquired

through love,

she is an eternal mystery to him,

at each turn he wonders

if he fell from her grace,

for she rules the mighty

in her gardens’ delight,

their bodies intertwined

lost in the passion that be,

he searches in every touch,

every movement of her body

seeking to find that

which pleases her

beyond the depths

of the angels flight.

it is the flow of his love through her,

feeling the potion of desire

become the lost soul

she never meant to let go.

yet unattended she grows cold,

no blanket to warm her –

to hold her against the chill

that overcomes

when this wooing

is lost in accomplishment.

it is the reasons

she drifts to another world -

a place you once

had reason to know,

but alas her heart

now caught safely

you believe -

inside the net

tying now her wings,

only, it is when she is left

to draw dust upon

the shelf of accomplishment

she falters in her defense

into the arms of another,

another who finds value

in her existence

as you once seemed to do,

enough that your eyes never waiver,

your ear doesn't turn deaf

to the cries she holds within

awaiting you to save her

from the fall she has taken

in search of what she found with you

though never is it the same,

she prays of you

to see the through the tears

that fall invisibly

to the naked unknown eye..

as the halls are no longer

lined in erotic artistic emotions

flowing on the tips,

onto a lightly brushed canvas -

tis the art of wooing

each image creating

the woman --

the one soul,

who fell in love with you.

not for your stature

or the beauty she sees outwardly

but for that which she cannot see,

for you hold the brush

as she awaits your strokes

to rekindle the torch

you let turn into

a dimly dying ember,

an ember which never stops

needing to be attended to,

an ember following the heart's

burning, yearnings,

her the beauty

of the art of wooing

which you the painter

of love and fidelity

are always painting,

never to be quite finished

otherwise he might find a canvas

is all the owns

because the art of wooing once kept

his lover thought to be captured evermore

inside his net -

she’s struggling to free herself

through someone who will renew

her lost value in the eyes

of the man she dreamed

every dream with,

of the eyes she looked

so deeply into

always searching for the beauty -

of your abilities to own her completely

so long as you never lose sight –

of your art of wooing……

©Kristy Tallman – All rights reserved.

Currently listening:
Hot Rocks 1964-1971 [DSD Remastered]
By The Rolling Stones
Release date: 2002-08-27
9:19 AM 
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Saturday, March 28, 2009 

Current mood:  aroused
Category: Writing and Poetry



The Sanctity of One With You….


She would die for you...

to touch you..

to become that sanctity of one with you...

She's drowning in a sea of ecstasy

waiting for her drug to kick in...

Deeper she cries...

deeper inside where the nightmares dwell

You voice distant

to far off to hear...

yet the slightest moan

she feels to the core,

it burns,

it twists

ike a knife

tearing her apart...

She's waiting for you...

wondering

how you can sleep through

the dance of her fingers,

the caress that gives you chills...

are you asleep she wonders...

She would die for you....

she hungers for you...

she couldn't wait for you

so she embraced

her own flight through Eden....

not alone...with you....

after all it tis her fantasy.

A naughty rhythm streams

through her body,

the ache too much to bear,

the desire

its fire out of control,

she touches you,

she whispers "wake up....play with me..."

left to the devices of silence

and still moments she tries again....

"I want you....let me have you..."

a gentle kiss

caresses his shoulder blade

as her body slithers away

like the snake into the forest floor,

her breast erect;

pulsating with warmth,

between her panties

she's deliciously wet

but alas still is the night,

silent is his motions....

she can't stop what already began........

her fingers are met

by the rushing waters that flow,

crippled the creek

in its motion as her body moves

bring her near...

one caress,

two caress;

in between

lies him

and the once blank wall...

her canvas now

shadows reflect from the televisions

silent light,

she hushes herself afraid to let go

to the point of tears,

its too late –

the soft moan escapes

into the darkness of light

she creates while you slept

away the dream...

her body grows rigid

in the moment of pleasure’s bliss,

she would die for you, she wanted you

but tonight...

he didn't awaken to her calls –

calls like the wolf's

lonesome howl in the moonlight....

now her body relaxes but strangely

she's still hungry....

"more" she whispers into the silence of motion,

the rhythm of desire,

left to the devices of lust,

hunger, a need to feed,

a need to feel the skin

beneath her nails

as she releases her exotic screams....

the dream reels on the blank canvas...

the wall she danced upon...grew dim

waiting to get close to you,

to be part of you...

to become that sanctity

of one with you...

© Kristy Tallman, March 28, 2009


All rights reserved and protected by copyright laws. Any violations of such laws in part or whole will be followed by legal action unless written permission has been given by myself.



Currently listening:
Absolute Garbage
By Garbage
Release date: 2007-07-24
9:03 AM 
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Friday, March 20, 2009 

Current mood:  indescribable
Category: Writing and Poetry


For you….


No matter where you go,
no matter how many miles
that come between us,
if there's silence,
there's always a whisper,
a moment when you will find
on a soft breeze the sounds
of my voice -
callin out to you -
callin out for you.

I have traveled high
I've traveled low,
some days are good
while others I feel like
I'm losing my mind
but in the warmth of your arms
I keep on trying,
no matter how hard it is
I keep on trying
to find my way back -
find my way back to you -
the one who keeps me grounded -
the one who keeps me sane
even when I can't be.

Sometimes I'm carried off on a wind,
carried off on a feeling
of not wanting to exist
but I couldn't go if I wanted to
because I need -
I need -
I need you.

No matter how far away
my thoughts are,
no matter how many miles
the silence brings
between our hearts
I can hear you,
the first time
you whispered my name,
the first time
you made me feel alive -

so no if there's a moment
I don't seem to be with you,
know in my heart you always are
because I keep on holding,
keep on holding onto you...

Too many times
you catch me when I fall,
you heal my soul
and give me what it takes to go on,
you warm my heart
when a cold wind blows,
so when my heart
feels like it's dying,
I'll keep on trying,
keep on holding,
keep on living -
living for you...

Sometimes I'm carried off on a wind,
carried off on a feeling
of not wanting to exist
but I couldn't go if I wanted to
because I need -
I need -
I need you.

© Kristy Tallman, March 20, 2009

All rights reserved and protected by copyright laws.  Any violations of such laws in part or whole will be followed by legal action unless written permission has been given by myself.

Currently listening:
The Ultimate Collection
By Poco
Release date: 1998-11-17
1:23 PM 
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Thursday, March 12, 2009 

Current mood:  quiet
Category: Writing and Poetry




In the corner of life....dying....


As quietly as a mouse in the corner she sits,
Watching through the blur of tears
that have overshadowed her world.
Disappointment, pain, defeat without the promise of hope –
yes that's all she can see, all she can see anymore.

Talk about your feelings, tell others what pain they cause –
 she meekly looks up and asks in a soft whisper,
”Why? - Why should I?
No one seems to notice the darkness
that used to be blue, no seems to notice the pain I endure –
at least if they do its just a bother to them."

He sits across the room,
watching her watching the floor,
watching her eyes follow the lines in the wooden planks
grown old with age, it reminds him of how old she has become
to be so young - he wonders what has been so bad on earth
that could have let this be done.

She doesn't know if he's imaginary or real,
nothing is as it used to be, not anymore.
Her husband a man who lives in the past
and doesn't notice the present or plan the future
with a person who so desperately needs hope in her life.
Just one little piece of something to hold on to.

A burden she's become as the pain engulfs not just her body
but worse into the depths of her heart and soul. 
Sometimes she sleeps too long; sometimes she doesn’t sleep at all.
The pain dictates without rhyme or reason,
 the time of day, the emotions of the moment,
and she awaits sometimes hopeful its sooner than later,
that the final bell will toll.

From her corner she watches to see –
what would be the outcome of her life
if she took the pain away forever.
Her pretty pills lined all in a row take one now,
another in 5 more hours
or does she just finish them off with one big swallow.

The sadness in her children's eyes –
tears at first because she's gone,
but no more tears from watching
their mother waist away like the edges of a desert  erode.

Her mother soon to follow the pain too much to bear but
she knows losing her mother is something for which she
has to prepare and wonders if her heart could withstand
burring another portion of what little is left of her life.
Her mother - yes her mother would follow soon behind
and together they could be united
without an ounce of pain between them.
Free.

Her husband - he makes it easier to swallow the pills
that would quickly flow their venom through her body.
He doesn't talk to her anymore, her sickness is just
something he's grown tired of.
Besides at least then she would be
someone of his past and he might then notice her.
At last.

She whispers to the man who sits in the corner
on the  other side of the room....
"They're all family he says. Well I may not be good
at math and genealogy but I can tell the difference
between 17 relatives and 51 friends."

The man nods because he knows she is right
and it feels good for someone to agree with her for a change.
It feels good for someone to listen to her pain,
it feels  good to have the sense that someone
cares more about her than themselves.

He doesn't judge her for her mistakes,
he doesn't judge her for her fall to pain,
he picks her up in his arms when she cries and hushes away
the tears that never fall because when she tries to talk to anyone else –
she knows the tables will turn
and they will make it all her fault.

Especially the one person she chose to spend
the rest of what may become her short life with –
the one who lived in the present with her
and not in the past always searching for something
he'll never have because there she sat in a corner –
quiet as a mouse wondering when
he would notice that she existed.

Wondering when he would notice that the present is now,
not when he was growing up,
his girlfriend is his wife,
not the one he had in high school,
she's the one who brought back to life
the relationship with his daughter
who more than once he told her
 how easy it would be for him to walk away...
yet he seeks to find that which walked away so long ago.
He didn't notice how she took her in as her own,
loved her and nourished her with a mother's love
only to find out he would never
 give back the same to her own.

Yes - pretty little pills all in a row –
he makes them the easiest to swallow....
not just one to ease the pain of the moment....
not two just so she can pretend everything is okay....
120 maybe if there's that many left...
if not whatever is, she's sure will do....

No..not today those pretty little pills
that could take away her deepest pain...
no not today will she swallow them all
but for the first time in her life
she has seriously contemplated the worse
or maybe the best for everyone involved.

She looks to the corner for the man
who had sat there for so long –
seeking the solace he brings
when he shows an ounce of compassion for her soul,
she looks to him when she picks up one pill this time,
follows it with a shot of water to ease the flow
then whispers,

"I don't want to hurt anymore" as a teardrop stains the hardwood floor....

He tilts his head and she thinks she recognizes who he is,
she feels a flutter in her heart, a moment of hope
that is quickly diminished by a memory of loss,
another tear follows. His voice soft but firm,

"I don't want you to hurt anymore." as a teardrop stains the hardwood floor...

He reaches out his hand to her
and cradles her in his arms,
it seems so familiar but so long ago,

"No matter how much pain you're in today,
tomorrow or the next," he rubs her back...
"remember I love you and you were the pain
I fought through to see another day,
if there's just one person...
just one person who makes you feel that way...
fight baby girl, fight through the pain,
the rest of world will go away....
haven't they already?"

She cried until she finally found sleep,
woke only to find herself sitting
in the corner of her room,
snuggled up to an old stuffed animal,
everything changed, a dream?,
 a moment with him?,
she searched the corners of the room,
only to find she was alone,
but in her heart, on ember of love
 lifted a heap of pain,
she searched for her children,
then checked on her mother
and fell to sleep in her bed again –
knowing there was another
she would fight the pain for no matter
how hard it got, because she knew
once she swallowed the last
she would lose them too.

© Kristy Tallman March 12, 2009

All rights reserved and protected by copyright laws.  Any violations of such laws in part or whole will be followed by legal action unless written permission has been given by myself




Currently listening:
16 Biggest Hits
By Alan Jackson
Release date: 2007-08-07
12:12 PM 
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Monday, February 23, 2009 

Current mood:  sleepy




No Rest For The Weary…..


Laying in my bed,
watching a disease
suffocating me,
as I pray for sleep-
only to find
it never comes…

Too many thoughts traverse
through the corridors
of my undefined mind,
delusions of fear take over
because nowadays…
the sand man passes me by….

Adrift to dream,
dream to drift,
nothing comes but images
and thoughts that won’t shut up,
a new crime my body commits,
a lack of sleep makes one mad
as it drains my brain
of the essence of life.

So tired I feel,
eyes are heavy,
why won’t they just close,
find their way home,
find their passage
to the hollow halls
where quiet rests,
there is no rest
no rest for the weary…..

Too many thoughts traverse
through the corridors
of my undefined mind,
mixed emotions,
broken mirrors in a fun house
but it isn’t fun anymore,
confusion takes over
making it harder…
ever harder to find
that peaceful place
called sleep…..

Questions arise
like a vicious spirit
haunting my mind
kicking the covers to and fro,
worries arrest my body,
pain flows with such malice
through my innocent veins,
what used to be isn’t anymore,
nothing makes it go away,
everything hurts,
but tears won’t come,
pain can’t find escape
no more than the blood
that runs through us
lest death takes over….

I don’t want to die,
I don’t want to be sick,
I don’t want to always be so tired
because sleep doesn’t come,
I want to breathe again,
I want to feel
what it feels like to sleep…..

Too many thoughts traverse
through the corridors
of my undefined mind,
delusions of fear take over
because nowadays…
the sand man passes me by….
So I pray for sleep….
I pray for peace….
I pray for sleep…
I pray…I pray…
only sleep never comes…


© by Kristy Tallman – February 2009.
 All rights reserved and protected by copyright laws.  Any violations of such laws in part or whole will be followed by legal action unless written permission has been given by myself





Currently listening:
Electriclarryland
By Butthole Surfers
Release date: 1996-05-14
12:39 PM 
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Wednesday, November 19, 2008 

Current mood:  bummed
Category: Life

mazzy star

When my daughter passed away three years ago come November 28th this song was what held me when no one else could, this is the song that always made me feel like there was a reason she couldn't be here with me and there was a reason I didn't get to say goodbye. Its horrible to loose your child but its the worst kind of pain you will ever know when you can't hold them through the pain they had, or not even know if they had any. There's no way to know what she said if she was ever awake - you hate the fucking tree that took her life or was it a deer that crossed the road and out of the kindness of her soul she tried to miss it. I miss her so fucking much but I have two other children I'm blessed with and a step daughter now who I have to always remain strong for. I don't know which is harder. I don't know how to grieve for my baby whose gone - I don't know how to hide my pain to keep my babies happy who are with me. I'm pretty fucked up as most mothers are who lose a child. But if you're one of those mom's who have lost a child and didn't get to say goodbye - maybe this song will help you like it helps me.

Look on Down From the Bridge, by Mazzy Star

Look on down from the bridge
There's still fountains down there
Look on down from the bridge
It's still raining, up here
Everybody seems so far away from me
Everybody just wants to be free
Look away from the sky
It's no different when you're leaving home

I can't be the same thing to you now
I'm just gone, just gone
How could I say goodbye
How could I say goodbye
Goodbye
Maybe I'll just place my hands over you
And close my eyes real tight
There's a light in your eyes
And you know–yeah, you know
Look on down from the bridge
I'm still waiting for you….

One day I will see her again - one day I will know the answers that I wonder every day and one day I will hold her the way I wish I could have that day. May any of you who have lost someone suddenly in life feel some hope in knowing you're not alone in your pain. It always feels that way at least for me. My ex-husband has all my babies things and I only have a few things that I can hold onto but as time passes her scent has left her clothes, and no matter how many times you pick them up to hold them you can't feel her inside them. You feel like you want to die right with them but its not our time. Hell I had a massive heart attack at 36 not even a year after she passed and I sit here with an angel's heart beating for what used to be my own. She saved my life I like to believe but there are days when I wish I wasn't here and I could be with her if its just for that moment - the one I've been waiting for since her last breath was taken.

Special thanks goes to Mazzy Star for the beautiful song that helps me more than she could probably know or understand when she wrote it.


An Angel In Heaven Taken Far Too Soon - Missing You

RIP - Ashlie Nicole Stell - June 30, 1988 - November 28, 2005

Currently listening:
Among My Swan
By Mazzy Star
Release date: 1996-10-29
3:59 PM 
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Wednesday, November 05, 2008 

Current mood:  worried
Category: Writing and Poetry
Hi everyone!

I know I've been scarce for a while but wanted to let you know that I have a blog off of myspace called Flowers In December where you can go and comment if you like or just read my poetry - get updates etc. There's not much going on but the rent these days as I have been just taking care of family and trying to get by.... I'm headed now to vote and I hope you will to! Exercise your power and vote wisely  All of our canidates promise you change but keep in mind your congress makes all the decisions in the long run. The life of our country rests in your hands and without your vote your voice is not heard. And yes I'm quite worried over what the outcome of today's election might be Have a great day and stop by my blog if you like :)

Take care!

Kristy
4:36 AM 
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Tuesday, November 04, 2008 

Current mood:  blustery
Category: Writing and Poetry



there's a phoenix rising into the sun,
a distant hope on the horizon
of a life that's come undone.
genuine pain is a fleeting heartbeat
it flutters no more.

the sting of a butterfly's wing
caressed by a brush of skin -
its color the beauty of ink
pressed hard into the pores of the heart.

a flame rises
from the depths of lust
fading quickly into love -
beyond measure the horizon
and beyond reaches forward
into eternity -

there is nothing as beautiful
as the site of the phoenix
rising into the sun
as it bursts into a fiery passion
concreted in the sidewalk -
caught by a penny fallen from heaven,
a distant hope on the horizon
of a life that's come undone -

genuine pain is a fleeting heartbeat
that flutters no more....
no more.....

copyright Kristy Tallman - November 2008
Currently listening:
A Momentary Lapse of Reason
By Pink Floyd
Release date: 1997-12-16
12:44 PM 
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Monday, November 03, 2008 

Current mood:  thoughtful
Category: Writing and Poetry


hollow...

A silhouette of silence,
a veil to cover the pain,
eyes that see through you,
warmth that extinguishes
as into the shadows she fades.
Beautiful dreamer of lost lives,
lives no one has anymore,
 lives only found now
 in a more recent fairytale book,
she reads from faded pages,
avoiding the end because she knows,
nothing is as it was before.
A tear will fall as she closes her eyes,
upon the pillow they will fall
in the darkness of night
where she can disguise the pain
that never really goes away.
A silhouette of silence,
a shadow fallen upon the wall,
a tree dances outside the window,
a cool wind extinguishes what once was
as into her death bed she fades,
lost now, not long ago, but already forgotten,
her name never spoken upon the lips
of those who said they loved her,
are they afraid or did they just forget?
The turning of the final page,
wrinkled and worn well before its time,
too early she grew old,
now its too late, the story's told,
the book has closed, as into the shadows she fades,
a beautiful dreamer of lost lives,
lives no one lives anymore,
lives only found now
below
the hollow
cold ground.

copyright by Kristy Tallman, November 2, 2008
Currently listening:
History for Sale
By Blue October
Release date: 2003-08-05
11:42 AM 
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Sunday, November 02, 2008 

Current mood:  tired
Category: Writing and Poetry


dying....

pretty pictures hang on a wall,
simple furniture scratches and all
a rug that had seen better days
dingy windows with broken panes.

shimmers of light show through
curtains raveling from their hangers
a woman sits quietly in her rocking chair alone
remembering the sounds that were present so long ago

now - silence is all she hears,
the children come no more,
the babies don't need fed
her husband buried over and over each day

cobwebs covet the lampshades
dust settles like sand dunes
life is gray except on rare occasions
when only one splash of color escapes her.....

when in a fleeting moment a prism of color comes
when the sun catches her tears just right
as they fall from her eyes,
yes - a moment of color escapes her

leaving her soul,
she sighs in relief, one more moment gone,
she counts away the time
by the ticks of the hands echoing in the silent house

the clock that marks
the passage of pain
the passage of sanity
the passage, she prays, of her

soon the house will be empty,
stillness gone because she's no longer there
unable to recognize what only she heard,
the death of a grieving soul.....

copyright by Kristy Tallman - November 1, 2008
Currently listening:
History for Sale
By Blue October
Release date: 2003-08-05
6:47 AM 
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Thursday, October 09, 2008 

Current mood:  awake
Category: Writing and Poetry


Piercing

I close my eyes because too often
behind closed lids lay my realities.
I search for the truths of life,
the ones I seek, I search for the lies,
the ones I find upon the lips of so many,
so many...

Behind these eyes beauty dances
between death, between pain,
between the window panes of life
where none of us can escape.

Upon opening, the color changes
from a crisp blue
which mimics the ocean's waters,
blink and watch the change,
truths of life have caused
the soft edge to dissipate,
now they pierce you like a knife,
as a shield of crystal clear sharpness
replaces the softness
they once knew.

Comments are easy to take,
no one understands the change,
those who didn't know me before
don't even think twice about the new me,
the one who used to live
with eyes wide open,
who now resides
behind closed eyes,
in the past,
in the happiness that once was,
in a used to be reality.

Behind closed eyes
I can remember places,
I can remember days,
I can remember but when I open them
the truth creeps back in,
stealing the beauty
that once was my life.
Stealing the softness of happiness
replacing it with a piercing blue pain.

I close my eyes because too often
behind closed lids lay dreams.
I search for the truths of life,
the ones I seek, I search for the lies,
the ones I find upon the lips of so many,
so many...

copyright Kristy Tallman - October 2008
Currently listening:
Sixteen Stone
By Bush
Release date: 1994-12-06
7:18 PM 
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Sunday, September 28, 2008 

Current mood:  bummed
Category: Writing and Poetry


Why baby why....?

Can you see into my eyes - see the strangeness that has forshadowed the once beautiful hues of blue - can you see into my heart - the one that aches for you - can you see the confusion I can't comprehend - can you?

Why does my heart feel so bad? Why does my soul feel a million years old? Why does my tears flow?

Can you feel the tenderness in my kiss - do you understand it? Do you know where you are taking me and how far away that is? Can you feel the silence that surrounds us where laughter used to - Can you feel the distance that I can't comprehend - can you?

Why, tell me why - my heart feels so bad - why tell me why - my soul feels so alone? Why do these tears flow?

I want to reach out and bring you back to me but I don't know how - I want to know everything is okay but all these tears can't mean that's the case. Why can't I feel your touch the way I used to? Why can't you touch me the way I need you to?

Why baby why - please tell me why my heart hurts so bad - why baby why - can you let me know why there's a sorrow filling my soul?

I need you, I love you, I want you, just like I have always done before - nothings changed yet nothing's the same - have you forgotten me? Have you forgotten to love me?

Why baby why - I need to know - my heart hurts so - why baby why - don't you see into my soul - why baby why - why don't you notice - I'm feelin' so alone.

copyright by Kristy Tallman - September 2008
9:43 AM 
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Sunday, September 28, 2008 

Current mood:  moody
Category: Writing and Poetry



Inside The Mirror


She looked into a mirror wondering who she was –

what she had become - was time taking its toll

or was she just growing ancient - feeling old.

She didn't see the beauty that used to glow

whenever she stood there long enough

to remember him the man she loved.

She seen him every day

but she knew he didn't see her.

She was a distant shadow that once lit the room

when she walked in.

She was a sparkle in an eye

that had grown cold and dim.

 

She stood there watching the tears

reflect through the shattered glass of the mirror.

Blood trickled down the jagged edges

but she wasn't sure why.

She reached up to wipe the tears from her eyes –

everything was too blurry.

Stains of red mingled with her tears,

they came from her hands that were cut

as she slammed them into the image she had become.

 

Anger filled her soul –

she wondered where happiness had gone –

she wondered how come he had forgotten her –

she lay beside him every night hearing his breath,

knowing if his heart missed a beat she would notice it,

 but where was she? Who was she?

Now the shadow that once lit the room

standing before a bloodied mirror staring back at her.

She wondered what was left –

she began to rummage through the bloody cabinet.

 

Bottles of pills to lift her spirits,

bottles of pills to take away her pain,

bottles of pills to stop her from being afraid –

she wondered as she remembered

the feeling they once gave

if she could just feel that way again.

She emptied several different ones

into her bloodied hand,

turned the faucet on with the other,

threw the pills back against the pain inside –

hoping they would make her forget –

make the pain go away - make her feel good again....

 

The children came home from school

their mother laying in her bed,

red stained sheets while their mother sleeps.

Shhhh...they tiptoe away knowing

she's probably had another bad day.

They had no idea it was the last one she'd have.

 

Her husband came home to find the kids watching tv –

"shhh..they told him - mom's alseep."

He wondered why she was sleeping at this time –

usually she was at her usual rituals of cooking dinner

and getting homework done.

He walked into the bathroom finding

the jagged shards of glass drenched in blood,

the bottles of pills spilled to and fro.....

 

A chill ran over him, the shadow walked through him,

he was afraid to go into their room

afraid of what he might find. –

He proceeded cautiously down the darkened corridor

where a lone candle had burned almost out,

there lay his wife upon blood stained sheets

seemingly sleeping peacefully –

he went to her side brushed back her hair from her face,

oddly she was smiling as he noticed she didn't breath.

 

She looked out from the mirror

watching her death unfold

noticing that not one tear fell from his soul,

he worried about the kids and called her mom –

called an ambulance,

cleaned up the jagged shards of glass

not knowing she saw him just as he had made her

there in her shadow that lingered

lost from the one she loved.

 

She looked out from the mirror

wondering who she was –

what she had become –

was time taking its toll

or was she just growing ancient - feeling old.

She didn't see the beauty that used to glow

whenever he used to notice her.

She seen him every day

but she knew he didn't see her.

She was a distant shadow

that once lit the room when she walked in.

She was a sparkle in an eye

that had grown cold and dim.

Just as she had too long been.


copyright by Kristy Tallman - September 2008

8:33 AM 
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Kristy Tallman - Mystery & Thriller Author

Mystery Thriller Kristy Tallman


Last Updated: 3/20/2009

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Gender: Female
Status: Married
Age: 40
Sign: Libra

City: CHESTER
State: Virginia
Country: US
Signup Date: 12/14/2007

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