Syntactical Error

Like the swirling mass of

Watermelon and gold

Hovering above the

Cloud-shaded trees

I feel it brewing for days

⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄

Finally, the tension bursts

An explosive storm

Blowing out every window

Single and double-paned

Uprooting every tree and scrub

Taking patches of

Unbonded sod sprinklers

still lodged

The meaning finally

becomes clear

⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄

Unloved

From day one

Abandoned to the

mountainside

Left to fend for

myself and hide

Like Atalanta

I learned to fight

Taking out the

Fearsome bear of my

Chained memory

⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄

What could rock my sturdily

Planted battle stance?

A flood of truth

Explanations shake my

Stolen clarity

Enough to sweep the ground

From beneath me

⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄

Left tumbling in a gasping

Mind-wrenching chasm

Black below

Blinding light

Pours in from

Above my spinning head

Lightning flashes as I

Flip and twitch

No matter how I

Pose and wail

Nothing materializes midair

To grip and slow my descent

The soul-splitting howl echoes

Reverberating through my

Emptying mortal core

⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄

All that’s left

A tired, wretched, stinking ball

Heaving and racked with aches

Barely able to walk or crawl

⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄

Always hearing

Never listening

It’s true

I never even heard you

Say, “I don’t love you”

K.B. Silver

⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄⋆.ೃ࿔⛈ ݁ ˖*༄

The mind constructs the most precarious narratives to create a safe place for us to shelter from the storm so we can get through each day and on to the next. Stepping out of the darkness of denial and into the harsh outside light of my reality has been a long, rough journey. The debris and wreckage of the life I constructed to shield myself from the most painful and fundamental truths are still settling. I long for the day the air is fresh and clear, like after the rain.