His eyes call to me...

May 10, 2010
By , Willis, MI
His eyes call to me.
They are what broke into
My prison and freed me.
Before, all I could
See was darkness. The
World of light had rejected
Me and I had fallen into the
Prison cell that contained
Me for years.
Black and gray,
My world was painted
In these lackluster
Colors that all come from
White. Blue,
Cool and clear like
Water splashed across my face
And made me come to.
The bars of my cage still held
Me. As I would try to
Fight back they would
Shock me with waves of purple
Static. Unfortunate. That’s what
People said when they heard of
My condition. My
Depression. Attention.
That’s what they said I wanted
When I cried for help,
Cried that the darkness was threatening
To take me. Weak. That’s what they said
When they found out about my
Eating disorder, my illogical
Fear of food and its effects
On my body. Annoying. That’s how
My family viewed this. Said I was
Airing our dirty laundry in public
Places. Because I was losing weight.
Because I was accepting my flaws
And running with them,
Trying to turn all this despair
Into something
Beautiful. Poetry.
Liquid lines chasing lyrical
Words over the pages, raw
Emotion poured out into
Concrete statues of naked women,
Bodies grotesquely twisted
To convey their pain
On paper.
Cute. Simple.
Undescriptive. That’s what
They called my poetry.
The waves washed over my head
And as the despair filled
My lungs I thought I would
Never resurface.
Warm. That’s what came to
Mind when a callused hand gripped
Mine and pulled me to the surface.
Blue. A shock of color that sent
Ripples in the through the cage
I had once thought so sturdy.
It was fragile,
Little pieces falling off as
He showed me how the world
Could produce such
Happiness. The slate
Roses I had once loved so
Suddenly erupted into
Brilliant color. Imaginative.
That what he called my poems.
He began to open my eyes to the
World and let me see,
That not everything said
Could be believed. Why
Aren’t I perfect the way I am?
I wanted to shout these words at
Those who had drowned me,
Drive the words into their brains
Like poison tipped daggers.
Ugly. That’s the description
That had been thrown at me.
I just assumed that it
Was true. But he made me
See. Beauty resided in
The eye of the beholder.
The grotesque mask upon my
Face began to crumble and
My true colors began to show through.
I used to be pulsing red,
Swirled with black anger
And pain and horror. But
Now shining rays of blue
Began to shine through.
It was because of him.
I was infatuated. He
Was an
Enigma; a mystery
I couldn’t solve.
Who was this creature that
Had saved me,
When I thought that all was lost?
Yet still, the horrible
Pool of darkness lingered under
My feet. I clung to this cobalt
Beam of light, and while
He chased his own interests,
I chased him. He said
That I was one of his best friends,
And I crooned at the praise.
Emotions I didn’t know existed
Bloomed into full effect,
And my foolish actions
Compromised us both.
Forgiveness. That’s what
I cried for when I mucked up
Both of our lives.
Indigo. That’s what began to appear
Behind the lids of my eyes
When I smiled.
Happiness. That’s what
He taught me.
I used to think my story
Was set in stone,
That I was condemned to the
Future that laid in front of me.
He made me see that
I could be all that
I wanted to be.
I could dance across
The world wrapped in
Azure gauze. Strong.
That’s what he taught
Me to be.

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