Band Aids And Thread OR A Work In Progress

Is a good marriage just an oxymoron?
Is a marriage just an acceptance of disappointment?

How come romantic movies always
end at beginnings,
weddings,
first kisses,
or the start of a relationship?

Shaped by worn tools of prejudices
molded into sculptures of marble lovers
stone cold
beating hearts stilled and
cemented onto broken dreams.

Is it possible to get joy out of life without tears?
Perhaps the ache is better than boredom and dissatisfaction.

Dreaming of others' lives
wishing for their's in hope that life has more to offer
and at least some have grabbed hold of the golden apple.

Is there truly acceptance, love, comfort showered from open arms
and minds
willing to understand the anger and pain
or instead only reminded of their own salted wounds

Is fulfillment found in arms
searching
looking
wanting
more than what is predestined?

ignoring the loss and moving forward
drawn by magnets of hope
into doors of shining eyes

gazing up at a heaven filled with gods
put there by men's imagination
followed through seas and travels for treasure

yearning for something to fill the black hole that burns within
pearls and colored gems fill the void but for a moment
and the expansiveness grows in the empty souls

Words written by lonely hearts and tears twinkling
in an empty face fuzzed by clouds in my mind.

Wishing for a different life... that may not be better.
longing to live in fiction of heroes and strength.

closing off hiding my soul and the hurt covered with smiles and laughter smothered for appearances sake. aaaah does my soul ache? do I wish for a rescue? I long to repair


a child sitting a mother's bed crying for the world
hunger and war.
the pain did not start there I remember years before.
battling children in a line trying to beat my joy, hope and life.
No tears from my eyes
as they were comforted by teacher's hugs
my skin toughened by their taunts

friendly books
young wishing
for love without the knowledge of it
the emptiness grew until it swallowed me whole.

drawn out of it's depths by resolve and
laughter floating me past
thorns reaching alive with their grasp
yanking tugging ripping the life and joy
out of my eyes
dulling them with disappointment of past loves.

chained to mountains of emptiness.
ripped open by



I can't remember why I called this poem Band Aids And Thread. I know why band aids, but not thread. It also appears that it is a couple of poems.... I need to work on it, but I also want it posted. So you guys can see the transformation of words into my feelings and imagination.

I wrote this in mid-August and have edited some of it.... more to come