` abandoned and lonely `

` abandoned and lonely `

I didn't think you would abandon me
I ought to have known better
don't know why I'd speculate you wouldn't leave me when I was down and out
I couldn't even ponder that as a possibility....

Even when you were wrong, I always wanted you to be right, even though I knew it to be untrue, If only you'd seen the good in me, even when those times were unbearable, I was always tryin' to hold you tight....

Even when you were lost and alone couldn't find your way back home -  I found you and brought you to where you were supposed to be, next to me....

Even when you were hurtin' from all that pain, I was there to wipe those tears away, knowing you'd be fine, cause I never left your side, even when you were down and out....

I just didn't think you'd leave me abandoned and lonely, I ought to have known better, I couldn't, I wouldn't even have pondered that as a possibility....

- sjbeaux
Art - Pita Nketiah (@piteah )

- thoughts -

I'm a hopeless romantic who seems to fall in love with ease. I always thought it just meant that I was able to see the beauty in most of the people, appreciating it for what it is and also for what it isn't. Love can be imperfect. Falling for someone's flaws is just as necessary as falling for their strengths. And people like myself, who fall into love easily, are sometimes the loneliest souls around at the end of the day.

- inspiration -

"The most terrible poverty is loneliness and the feeling of being unloved."

- Mother Teresa

Comments

Post a Comment

Popular posts from this blog

`fragile legacy `

Image
roses of times gone by — preserved into after life memories held dear — a poet April 1, 2025 Photography Credits © JNM 🇺🇸 ` fragile legacy ` 2025 Source : ™a Mind's Eye [THOUGHTS] For me, dead roses hold a special significance, preserved into after life i n a fragile, crumbling form, it tells a story of life's love, of loss, of memories that clings to the bittersweet beauty that sorrow bestows. The fragrance of a fresh rose  intoxicates our senses, but the scent of a dead rose is powerfully evocative with memories, transporting us to times gone by. The softness of a fresh rose is undeniable, yet the delicate, brittle texture of a dead rose serves as a touching reminder of memories held dear. Perhaps most profoundly, while a fresh rose is fleeting, its beauty lasting mere days, a dead rose endures forever, i t's beauty lost, yet still it speaks, t o depths within us, where heart and soul seek. [INSPIRATION] "A fresh Rose lives for days but a dead one...
Read more

` fractured `

Image
I am but a fractured spirit, a warrior amidst the ruins of a life once vivid and whole. Lately, my  ponderance reveals a world that I once knew has now drifted into a distant isolation. The year of anew has summoned a different awakened fatigue, a drain with an unseen weight that now erodes the bonds with all that once mattered. Within this shadowed isolation, I find my sanity quietly devouring, with fragments scattered by illusions of my own making. In those unguarded moments of insecurity, the apparition of my own end ascends with a cruel uncertainty, disturbing the way I yearn to be. I crave nothing more than to resurrect the man I once knew, a warrior of unyielding strength,  passion and resilience. Somewhere, in the endless tides of time, that self worth was been faulted, leaving behind a weakened soul and a tired old man. This m erciless aging thing, has been far from a graceful progression, it's just been a bitter reminder of a lost youth, the c ontradictory refra...
Read more

`Disjointed Thoughts`

Image
A silent murmur — echos from within, reveals cries of reckoning — a poet 3 June 2025 Artist Credits © Darcy Saxton United States 🇺🇸 "Disjointed Thoughts" Painting, Acrylic on Canvas Year: 2016 Source : SAATCHI ART [THOUGHTS of PROSE] A storm does not ask for permission before it eclipses the sky. It rises, swells, and writhes , with an unrelenting pulse of chaos. So it is with the mind, when unspoken truths collides with ghost of yesteryear . A soul in insurrection is not easily quieted. It smothers the spirit, demanding a reckoning, breaking against the silent reach of a mind's lingering pull .  This tempest from within will always be waged in the suffocating dark, within the mind, as a reckoning of indecision, where light flickers but does not yet blaze. Ignorance, not for lack of knowledge, but for lack of clarity, for the unwillingness to turn inward and face what has long been stirring.  The echoing void, then, is not merely noise but motion, the...
Read more