Poetry Sessions: Conflict


Past the strength and detachment is poetry and warmth inside of me.

brewing passionate love. 

Usually avoidant of tapping in, fear of insurmountable loss.

The loss of my identity. 

 knowing it’s all a paradox, because that’s the only time I actually find me.

After all I am made from love, by two people In love.

Craving something I’m terribly scared of.


Oh, dainty daisy does he love me not, or does he love me? 

I’ve plucked your stems so extensively

But I‘ve yet to find out if he loves me not, or if he loves me. 

What am I saying?

Does it even really matter anyway? 

A better question is do I love myself in any way? 

Lost and found. 

Bound to a reality in spite of me.

Contradictory as hell, who am I really?

No one has yet to know me.

But the facade I hold up is lovely. 

Intelligent, strong, Inspirational beauty. 

That’s comical if they only really knew me.

Can you see the fear behind my glossy bright eyes? 

Fear of love because what happens when it ends.

Will I be able to cope, or like rest, do I  just pretend?

Pretend I’m okay, until the feeling passes.

Until the next one lasts, until I can finally enjoy the present, put the rest in the past.

What happens when the pain doesn’t subside?

Do I lock it air tight deep in my core?

Then what?

I’ll keep attracting lovers with not much in store.

Every loss makes me colder, more detached. 

I never want that feeling back, I never want to reattach.

That’s usually what I tell myself after every failed catch.


Who wants to deal with that. 

Isn’t it easier to not care? 

Nestled in the corner bathing in my loneliness

It’s safe in there. 


But am I really safe in here?

What grows in here? 

It’s dark, lack of color, no flowers.

Not a daisy in sight to pluck

It’s ice cold, no laughter, no luck 

At least I’m not hurt, at least i’m not sad.

I always tell myself  that.

“But now what?” I ask.

If I don’t heal the past, and always choose love. 

I’ll be in this lower vibrational place, far from up above.

Yes there are no downs, but there are also no ups. 

Did I really come here to hide and die?

“This can’t be right.” I say, looking at a beaming luminous light. 

There has to be more in sight. 


Enlightenment just around the corner. 



PS. To my intimacy-phobic people, there are more of us than we’d like to admit.

This is usually our inner emotional dialogue.

May we always choose love above all.

Happy Friday Y’all. 

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