Where My Heart Resides

My soul resides in my head.

It is in the emerging crease upon my brow.

It swirls through my eyes in greys, and greens.

Sometimes I think that my mind is its prison,

And that perhaps I should set it free,

When the levels of my inner oceans rise,

So I weep, but the tears are sometimes endless,

And I can’t fathom where they come from anymore,

So I don’t know how to stop them.


My soul resides in my head.

It is in the pout of these lips,

That I can shift to a smile,

If you think that it will make

My plainness pretty,

But my smiles

Seldom reach my eyes,

And when I laugh,

It feels the same,

As if I had cried.

There is no difference

Between the two anymore,

Because no matter the moment,

I only ever see how it will end,

So I mint words

With gold that I borrow

From the setting sun,

And though I have filled volumes,

They have bought me nothing,

And the taste is bitter

When I realise

That no one is listening,

Or wants to hear,

And so I have learned

To seldom speak,

Because my silence is worth more to you,

Or so it would seem.


My soul resides in my head,

Funneling sound into my thoughts,

And I love to hear living water

Rushing over stones and sand,

Or the rustling of dried leaves,

As the wind pushes through them.

I listen to music

Sung in languages I may never understand,

Because it is soothing to me,

The not knowing,

And I am free to think

Whatever I wish,

Based upon pure melody.

But I feel disconnected

From my culture anyway;

I don’t have a home,

And I don’t belong here,

But I would be alien anywhere,

So I and my shadow creep alone

Along the periphial of anyone’s vision,

And no one really knows me,

Or cares that I exist.


My soul resides in my head,

And though time is sketching lines

Around these stormy eyes,

My cheeks are still soft,

And receptive to touch,

Though no one touches me,

Because it is a fight

Just to get that close,

But this is what comes

Of being hurt too many times.

Pain takes root,

Bearing poison,

And no one can tolerate

The taste of me.

Now the rot

Creeps slowly into my center,

As the sadness becomes heavier,

And I cannot wait

For the day

That my soul finally drops

From life’s thorny vine.


Leave a Reply

Fill in your details below or click an icon to log in:

WordPress.com Logo

You are commenting using your WordPress.com account. Log Out /  Change )

Google+ photo

You are commenting using your Google+ account. Log Out /  Change )

Twitter picture

You are commenting using your Twitter account. Log Out /  Change )

Facebook photo

You are commenting using your Facebook account. Log Out /  Change )


Connecting to %s