A karmic lesson in truth.

Poem is based on over hearing an entire conversation in detail, in public.

Dear…your name is not important, not now,
For a brief moment your choices created a void inside my mind that threatened to drag me in and devour me whole.
The lies you wore rolled up and stuffed beneath your heartless sleeve created a vortex of self doubt deep within my heart. The lies you whispered, the fractured fantasies you created. Romanticised in a one sided fantasy, i’d say the dreams you created, but they were an Italian masquerade ball of the past, characters playing an elaborate role flaunting stories pieced together with the guts of a thousand gnats.

Your reflection was a knight in shining armour your mirror an egotistical looped image of self importance, and for every second your heart beat you could not comprehend that I never desired to be saved. I never required you. Never have I met a soul so scared of intimacy, for every step forward you danced back to the beat of an inaudible song that played out across a tannoy in your world of fairytales and waiting wolves. You created an entangled web of manipulation, curious observations filled with empty holes and torn out patches. Your heart a fluttering mess of curdled blood when reality and fantasy played out indifferently and I had the honour of front row seats.

Dear….your name never really mattered, you were always a karmic lesson in truth.

Karen Hayward ©2016 (Words and image)

Flowers in the attic where do you hide!

The feeling creeps in slowly.
Panic, as I flip through once, twice, three times. I search the normal places, beside  the bed, the couch, at the top of the stairs, by the window in the kitchen next to the heater, the window that shows me the sun as he wakes and the moon as she wakes. It’s not there and not even the sparkling stars in the clear skies can make me feel better. I search inside bags and tucked beneath the mattress, I pull out the bed and feel my heart sink, my eyes prickle and for a moment I question my sanity. What if. What if I didn’t own that book, what if I just borrowed it, that would certainly make sense and suddenly it feels like my world is crashing, I just want to read the book, now, I search some more determined to be sure that the book is at least not here. Emptiness envelopes around me, darkness falls upon my heart, I feel a great void where a story should be, not any story and certainly not a recall from the many times I have read it before, a void created through the lack of pages to turn, the lack of worn out paper in my hands. The emptiness has become me.

Karen Hayward 2015. ©

Dark angels reflect in the black of night.

There is a fierce fire that burns inside my soul,
hidden in the dark forgotten corners of my mind.
Engulfed with the flames of hell venom rises as my innocence is lost in the beating of my racing heart.
One becomes two as I watch with the calm of an ebbing tide, word upon word, truth upon truth tumble from my worn out tongue into the universe. All barriers down, this game of chess belongs to me, make her a pawn then watch me as I take your Queen and destroy your King and precious Kingdom. There’s a fierce fire that burns inside my soul, a flame of burning hope and eternal protection, the fallen angels reflection.

Karen Hayward ©2105.

What is forgiveness.

What is forgiveness? I’ve spoke those words a thousand times over and still I search for peace. I’ve forgiven your knowing spiteful tongue, i’ve forgiven your chosen ignorance. I’ve worked tirelessly to hold together the slipping strings as you have pulled and pulled demanding respect for your title alone. I have shed tears in the darkness on the balance of your belief. I have stood alone day after day because you refuse to accept her. Pride, my pride was swallowed down the moment I became.Standing alone in the darkness with my pride, you have danced holding it up as though a trophy of my defeat, I forgive therefore I am naive, I am weak. I am without bitterness, I am without hate.I am beginning to wonder at what point I should close the gate. You are blinded by your own selfish beliefs. You are blinded by fear. Perhaps, forgiveness is meant for me, I cannot make you see, perhaps this time, forgiveness is meant for me.

Karen Hayward ©2015.

Forgotten Birthday Wishes.

I know you don’t want me in your life no more,

I understand that.

I know you will never forgive that I made that call,

I understand that too.

I know I am a memory you wish to forget.

I understand it all.

I’m a past you want to believe never happened,

a mask you want the world to think never existed.

I understand it all.

But today I cannot help but think of you, when in years

gone past we have shared so much.

So many cakes. So many drinks. So many nights shared.

So many Birthday song requests.

So many laughs.

So many tears.

So I hope in long forgotten words

that your day was good

and all that you deserve.

Dear younger self,
If technology ever develops a way of somehow projecting this into the past, then I have something important to tell you. A few things in fact.

Follow your heart, follow your soul. Right now, society is telling you that to accomplish anything in life you have to be a certain way. This is a lie. Follow your heart; dye your hair, go goth, wear the sexy biker boots, wear jeans and hoodies and skirts with trainers. Wear what makes you feel good. Look different, wear your soul on the outside of your body.

Remember them, all of them.

Remember him. He will always be a memory.

Lost and afraid and filled with confusion you cannot see that one day you will proudly be the person you dreamed you could be. Better, you become an amazing human, you love truly and unconditionally to those that are worthy.

I cannot say don’t do this, or do that, because in truth, every thing we did growing up has made us who we are today. You do become.

My heart beats for the moments regret,
For those thoughts i could not forget.
Breaking away,
for the words i didn’t say.

Karen Hayward (©2015.)

Archived.

Archived beyond oblivion
to a megabytes room
where humans cannot go
but I will always know.

What is Love?

Why does the soul search the endless nights for

          invisible clues that create a puzzle that can only

be seen by the beholder? Is it love? Does love drive

             us to create an illusion of perfection in our world

of fantasy? Is love the reason I want to crawl inside

of his mind and flick through his black and white

memories, scrutinyzing each picture in detail and

creating my own images in the dark shadows that

his sight never touched? Is that love? Is that

the reunion of two abandoned souls lost in time?

Is love the; seconds, minutes, hours, days and years spent

staying away, staying hidden so as to not reignite flames

that refuse to go out, flames that have no place to burn,

is that love?  Is love the fight you refuse to walk away from,

the constant humiliation of a returning moment of recognition,

I am here, always I am here, lest you may forget, I am here.

Is that love?

Is love the deep desire to devour another’s body?

To lay naked beneath the stars next to them?

To abandon all fears, to explore new heights

to reach to stars you never knew even existed. Is this

not love? Is it not love when the peace you feel comes

from deep inside, from knowing them, having touched them?

Is love not, letting them go, letting them walk another path

one that was never destined for you?

Is that not love too?