It Slips Between Grasp like Sand by YPChan

[Intro: This is the story of the silently wounded.]

It slips between grasp like sand. Time. Memories. Love. You.

She’s suffered from internal bleeding for quite some time
No one ever knew; she always kept a smile
Drowning in self-misery, refusing to let it get all of she
Resilient to the untrained eye
Only thee perceptive heart can hear such a silent cry
From one door to the next, she carried this load
Still fully willing to go down this road
Determination outweighed heart’s strength for so long
The two haven’t reconciled – fearing the latter is wrong
There is a longing that flickers in the shadows of her eyes
Tears blinked back; personality makes the best disguise
Scarlett billows spread under the sheath of her skin
Terrified beyond words to allow anyone that close again
Sometimes stopping in amazement, just to look at herself
The ability to love, give and trust – as if pain, she’d never felt
The noose of naïveté hangs slightly around neck
While thoughts run wildly around mind – ignoring the nearing threat
Hands up to face; stare and trace
Each line that marks where healing took place
So many sobered hearts walking around
Joyful, peaceful, happy and sound
See it was her heart’s pain, for their gain
Gifting them the chance to feel love again
They toss her aside, once regaining their pride
And egos too big to notice she
The one that sacrificed, devoted her life
Her works, they no longer can see
Like paint faded from a canvas
No one remembers the inspiration for this?
No one recalls the wakeful nights or irrelevant fights
That brought forth these streaks of color in the light?
The hues are gone and so is the song
That used to play in her soul
Still patiently waiting on all those who left, to put back what they stole
Restoration has become frustration
Unable to see it in the horizon anymore
Someone built their garish new life, blocking the view
But she doesn’t care to see the sunrise anymore
Yet, simply goes for walks outside her residential hollow
There is no more left of she, since everyone’s borrowed
A piece that they needed, the parts that they wanted
Their greedy faces, by which she is now haunted
Standing barefoot in her own, a familiar roughness meets her there
Bending down to touch it, feeling it with fingers, playing in hands
It is the harvest of the ocean’s ebb – sand.
Smiling to self; recalling the story of the house built on sand, it surely fell
So when and if it does, she won’t be there to help you heal.

YPChan, Young Professionals Guest Writer

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Tagged as: "It Slips between Grasp like Sand. Time. Memories. Love. You." Poem, Love, YPChan