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this too shall pass
by Nanette Bellmani thought the days of you mentally mind fucking me were through
but there i go thinking again.
that time bomb you planted in my brain at some point
(i must have been asleep)
has finally gone off.
because rabid thoughts are running amuck
pulling plugs, poking holes, causing short circuits
in what sanity i thought i had regained.
it's really dawned on me that i may never be able to love anyone ever again.
that i am too damaged to feel anything,
that i will punish every future prospect with the past you gave me.
that i am every letter in the acronym fubar.
no matter how many times i tell myself that when the time comes,
and when someone does come along,
that they can help me through and help me heal,
i have to call bullshit on myself.
i feel beyond my shelf life, beyond my sell by date, thanks to you.
you may think of this as me waving my white flag.
i just think of it as a moment of weakness.
01/26/2010 Author's Note: not a fan of the title, but hey, the moment did pass.
Posted on 01/26/2010
Copyright © 2024 Nanette Bellman
| Member Comments on this Poem |
| Posted by Michael Smith on 01/26/10 at 07:37 AM Firstly, the title is wise and evident of a good attitude, as are other lines in this poem. I achingly identify with your words here, Nanette, as I too often feel tainted, and parts of me irreconcilable. It feels so much worse when we feel more like a victim, like we were taken advantage of.
Alas, it will take a truly magnificent soul to love this tarnished me; to see me amidst the social stigma I never wanted, that I tried so much to avoid. Yes, they will free me from my shackles and love me unconditionally; they will make me whole again. That soul can only be ME.
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| Posted by Johnny Crimson on 01/26/10 at 06:24 PM yeah, what he said. :) Awesome dude! |
| Posted by Therese Elaine on 01/26/10 at 06:29 PM Some men are like the ultimate in Manchurian Candidate manipulations...this isn't a truce, isn't a surrender, it isn't even a moment of weakness...it's a temporary respite from the battlefield, a holiday from patching up the wounded...it's gathering resources, checking arms, and the next day, waging your own personal blitz attack. |
| Posted by Kristina Woodhill on 01/28/10 at 01:52 AM Loved that third stanza, the whole thought process, and that quiet declaration at the end - I see you moving beyond that moment. |
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