Empyrean01 - Empyrean🍒

3 a.m.

I find myself in the midst of poetry written by the broken hearted. As I read each line the overwhelmingly hurt that’s been forgotten in my mind. Yet felt in my heart the cries of all the why’s.

Poetry not only written or rewritten; but the kind living in the hearts of those who have lived hurt an pain. In which now converts to healing through words. Writing, the aftermath of endured angush.

Those who have had the highest of hopes. Only to find those hopes crushed by someones lies. Or torn, shattered, and distraught by the hands of a narcissist. Which ever the case may be, I say to you; don’t feel alone because I’ve lived the pain in your poems that I read.

R.A.

Inst @rikkekrefting

Mary Oliver, from Long Life: Essays And Other Writings originally published in 2004

Empty Vessel

I’m empty.

I’ve given everything I have in me.

I don’t wait or truly ask for anything in return.

But now I have nothing left for me.

Not a drop has been added to my vessel.

And I’m alone and thirsty.

Desperate for some kind of sign that someone still cares.

I try not to ask for anything in return.

It’s not who I am.

But here I am.

Empty and alone.

If I ask now, I’m desperate.

If I’d asked then, I’ve lost my altruism.

They are content to watch me shrivel and dry up.

Their vessels are filled.

They may have some to spare, but none for me.

I’m not worthy.

I never was.

No amount of myself was ever worth one drop of return from them.

Yet I gave anyway.

I was worried they might one day thirst, they might need extra.

But they move on, filled to the brim.

Forgetting about the empty lonely vessel.

I collect dust.

Maybe even get knocked off the shelf and broken into a million pieces.

Not a piece returns a memory of me.

The one who gave her last drop,

To make him happy.

Purity

our love

when it was there

so pure it was

yet there was a gap

a gap which somehow

could never be filled

constantly it felt as if something was missing

but I know one thing for sure

it sure made me happy

and it sure was real.

sorry for documenting my suffering and delusions online do you still think im hot

Frida Kahlo and Chavela Vargas

Me: *sleeps in*

Scorpio: why are you late?

Me: slept in

*50 years later*

Scorpio: so are you ready to tell my why you were really late on May 16th 2016 at 9:47pm