Just Another Day
Another notch in her armour
She wanders the halls of darkness, lost in her memories,
Scrolling through reams of pain, rejection and lost hope,
She hears the whispers of past torments sent to break her,
As they push and pull her towards that depressingly slippery slope.
******
She pines for those she lost, those once important enough to reside within her heart,
Reliving the best of their time together once more,
At the end of her stroll she files away the memories, safe for another day,
And dries her tears before once more locking that precious door.
******
She’ll house the pain under the shelter of the full moon,
Releasing the destruction that have caused her bruised and bleeding heart,
She’ll cry rivers of tears absolving them of their peace,
Knowing they’ll live furthermore at a distance, forever apart.
******
She wallows for a day, sometimes two,
Her strength deserted and off on its own break from reality,
Sitting surrounded by her pain she stumbles whenever she tries to rise,
Understanding the crushing strangulation of grief to its tenth degree.
******
She’ll let her feelings run their course, at times out of control,
They strangle her throat until she loses her voice,
Squeezes her chest tight, holding hostage to her breath,
As she shatters under the load, given no other choice.
******
Her pain is a dark cloud in which she must coexist,
There’s no room left for forgiveness, nor a possible resolution,
Acceptance is the only key that’ll unlock her permanent sorrow,
But first she must grieve the forgotten before applying any solution.
******
As she slowly withdraws into the sunlight,
She’ll wearily stumble but this time there’ll be no drastic fall,
Slowly she’ll regain her sea legs and walk with confidence once more,
Her pain swallowed, chained and held captive; no longer on recall!
******
This entire process will be conducted silently, out in left field where she is alone,
Did she really shatter into a million pieces if there was no one to behold?
The fight — one she’s always had to complete in solitude,
The destruction, the meltdown, the vice-like grip of agony, remains forever untold.
About the Creator
Colleen Millsteed
My first love is poetry — it’s like a desperate need to write, to free up space in my mind, to escape the constant noise in my head. Most of the time the poems write themselves — I’m just the conduit holding the metaphorical pen.
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Welcome to the Winners Announcement for The Ritual of Winter challenge. This prompt focused on winter rituals and the meaning that settles into them over time. The top pieces stay grounded in ordinary acts and repeated routines, letting winter shape the work through pace, attention, and restraint.
By Vocal Curation Team7 days ago in Resources
Comments (1)
This was so poignant and intense. Loved your poem!