heed the silence that follows
truer than any promise made
the sound and fury of a hidden life
you cannot dream this into submission
by TONY SINGLE
© All rights reserved 2020
Two winters have already passed by
Two whole years without sadness, without joy.
The memories are still alive & fresh in my mind
Not alone, but still lonely most of the time.
Imagine a world where the past was different
Where we wouldn’t hurt each other
Our suns shone alone on different skies
Where our tears still rolled out
But not through each others’ eyes
A butterfly passes me by,
wings carrying storms of your place.
Sunlight reflects on its wings.
As if a long forgotten melody it sings
Carry on, as if it doesn’t matter.
We have been long alone together
Carry on, it doesn’t really change.
The fact that our lives we live are strange.
Carry on, Carry on till the piper plays.
Carry on, till the our paths cross again.
© All rights reserved 2020
On these damp and grey November days I think
Of things that should have happened but never did.
Of conversations that were never spoken
Afraid to raise the memories from the dead.
Of the questions that were formed but never asked.
Of the the horrors that were felt but never breathed.
Of carefully made plans that never began.
Of the dreams discarded like old newspapers.
I never finished that book, that course that day.
I never figured out what I was feeling.
I never found all the words I tried to speak.
I never look back, never ever look back.
I should’ve told her how he was hurting me.
I should’ve screamed and kicked and made him stop it.
I should’ve bit down hard when I had the chance.
I should have cut his throat as he slept at night.
I could’ve been anything I wanted to.
I could’ve worked harder, been more compliant.
I could’ve been less terrified of success.
I could’ve done better, could’ve done much better.
I never developed a strong sense of self.
I never knew who I was supposed to be.
I never learned to trust my intuition.
I never really understood my feelings.
I learned to switch off and disassociate.
I learned that alcohol kept the pain at bay.
I learned that I was damaged, unloveable.
I earned not to trust people, they would hurt me.
All the wasted time of wishing I was dead
All the years never truly daring to live.
All the hurt I’ve done to others in my rage.
All this time I’ve let you walk around unharmed.
Now here I am still broken but not giving up.
Now I know my childhood was stolen from me.
Now I can survey the damage done to me.
Now I’m going to take the final fight to
On these damp and grey November days I know
The things that should have never happened, but did.
Of the revelations that were never heard
It’s time to raise the memories from the dead.
by RICHARD GREEN
© All rights reserved 2019