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The Owl's Wise Eyes

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relationships

To the Self the Great Return

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You’re in a relationship, something isn’t clicking. You enjoy each other’s company, there are good days and some days, well let’s say they’re just…okay. You eat in silence, because there’s not much to talk about. Some nights you find yourself getting up and staring up at the ceiling, hoping that all the doubt you feel inside will be resolved by some kind of miracle. Divine intervention. You pray that your dreams will satisfy you, because the emptiness you feel inside is way too much to bear. There’s something missing but you can’t quite figure out what it is. You can definitely feel it. The reality of the void hits you rock bottom. The heaviness of your stomach rises like a solid to your throat, it sticks to you like a chronic cold. You’re fevering up but you still can’t find the courage to move on. Afraid to hurt yourself or is it another? Honesty is the greatest commitment. You can’t pretend to be something you never were meant to be. Nor can you fool yourself any longer. What you feel is real and moving forward is the only way to heal. You can’t drag someone else along with you. In love, we take no hostages. The only casualties that remain at the end of a battle are our own selves. We pick ourselves up and mend our wounds alone. That is the only way to find our way back home. The journey is always a long and lonely one, but in the end no matter what we will find ourselves. Just like it was in the beginning, so we find ourselves in the end. To the self the great return.

©Nicoletta

Dear My Girl

1 Relationship Street
Planet Venus
145212

Dear My Girl,

He’s really not worth it, he never was actually. He will call you up every Friday and every Friday after. You will be known as “Friday girl”, and I don’t suppose you’ve ever met Miss Saturday and Sunday?
I sincerely invite you to see the world from a weekday perspective. Mondays are always the test, a fresh new start. You can wear the day with all you need to do, responsible you are, brighter than that. How about Tuesdays? The thrill is always mid-day when you’ve waited for excitement only to find yourself window shopping, already spending your next salary with your eyes alone. Tighten up, Wednesdays are always the best. Hit the gym, lift a weight or two and when you’re through bath it up, lavender and bubbles soaking you to calm. Thursday ah…what a day, living the night in your very own bedroom. Lights are out and you are free to dream. Chocolate cake will do, only when you’re desperate.
My girl, can’t you see? Friday will never let you down. You will live harmless Saturdays and Sundays. Please consider my offer. We can plan it all out, sign it off on contract. Integrity in our ink. Single is the new you.

With my kindest regards,

Your Girl.

Your Words

I hear words.

Words I hear.

Speech.

Slipping from your tongue,

Vowels, mixed in a bowl of consonants.

A blend of ABC’s I have grown to know more than

A child practices it’s 1,2,3’s.

These vocal vibrations tremble into the depths of my own.

My personal song, a never-ending tone in my thoughts.

Why do these waves I have swam across so many times

Seem so foreign as they wash to the shore of my ears?

I hear them.

Like the melodic calling of the sea as one holds a seashell to their ear.

A string of letters birthing word after word.

A combination, uttered from any other mouth would be bound to gain comprehension.

And yet, it is your moving mouth I see,

Your perfect ability to combine meaning upon each sound you project.

A fixation of essence you spill upon each stock of vocabulary you share.

Yet my mind cannot bear to unite understanding with your lexis.

The stubbornness of my Self fails to unravel the flows flooding from your lips.

For they’d make perfect sense had they been

Expressed by any other existence in this universe

But you.

I hear words.

Your words.

The reality of the meaning they carry

Cannot enter my imagination.

A distance deepening upon each statement.

Each production of unified letters, pushing our bodies further apart.

A repellant you spray with each twist of your tongue.

My own language you speak,

And yet my brain is too weak to apprehend.

The symbols you strike,

Knock out the wind of my pipe.

For what voice is left?

But yours.

The final words of connection,

Drift us to another dimension.

Where I stand alone, still unable to crack

The code you once spoke.

© Nicoletta

If this poem had a voice, this is what it would sing…

By Your Self

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Being alone is quite a challenge.
Feeling that you’re on your own in the world,
Desperate to find someone you can hold on to.

You search and you search but that someone is not there.
For that someone you want is something you have created,
An ideal being that you have manifested.

You have selected the character that is compatible with yours;
You have picked specific exoteric characteristics;
You have chosen similar tastes in food and hobbies;
You are determined to find your creation;
Yet it is not there.

Truth is,
Nobody will be exactly as you picture them.
Someone precisely the opposite to what you have in mind,
May in fact be the one for you.

But loneliness makes us desperate.
Desperation stems from insecurity.
We are all afraid of being alone,
For we ourselves are the most frightening self to discover.

We think;
We act in a certain way;
We are given a particular face and body.
Therefore, we fall into the trap of thinking we know ourselves.

Being alone shatters any prior discovery of yourself.
It finds long lost keys to hidden doors,
Unfamiliar pathways, never trodden.
It sheds light on places you, yourself and you alone will be able to explore.
For loneliness is a certain challenge;
With the priceless reward of You.

© Nicoletta

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