MY JOURNEY-----Day 2---- Sweet-N-Low

Sweet-N-Low

She must be a diabetic.
The way she craves sugar.
Her insulin doesn't do her justice
Because sugars sweetness she's always lacking.
Hacking up the residual of failed attempts to keep sweet-n-low down
Her body sensing its inability to emmulate real
Sugar, so sweet it coursed through her veins.
Pains of withdraw
Coercing her body into convulsions
So severe she sips coffee sweetened with the next best thing.
Sweet-N-Low.
Convincing her mind and soul
That its good enough.
Swallowing quickly so the lack of sweetness cannot be detected,
Its bitter aftertaste ignored,
For her pantry houses that original sugar no more.
Only the occasional bleached white grain found swept into corners
And spotted under the edges of the living room rug,
These little mounds
Found
Of the seemingly forbidden treat
Are too tainted to taste so sweet.
So again the sugar substitute rests at her feet.
Sweet-N-Low.
Though suitable for the time being
Still doesn't harness the correct characteristics to quench her yearn
For sugar.
A substitute soon substituted by Equal and Splenda in hopes to come closer,
Nearer
Dearer
To the original.
None recreating that euphoric high induced by the that sultry sweet sugar.
See his love was so sweet,
She feared she would never meet,
Another whose love could beat
His sugar.
His pure, refined, white crystal sugar.
Mounds of his love poured through hour glasses just as time passed,
But soon it came to be that their time ran out.
Sugar replaced by opaque powder so fine,
That through the hour glasses restrictions
It passed with ease.
Time paced faster than God meant for it to be,
This man's love, just wasn't as sweet.
Her dependency on sugar had her system functioning in a function so dysfunctional
That she forgot self control.
Diabetic by default
Yet self sustaining in nature.
Chemical dependencies too deep to realize that even sugar isn't as sweet,
As pure cane freshly reaped
From the earths soil.
The true prototype from which even sugar is derived.
The day will come
In which that pure cane touches her tongue.
Filtering through hour glasses so slow,
That times seems to stop.
So sweet,
That nothing can soothe
Her heart like he.
His love the only kind of sugar she needs.

MY JOURNEY-----Day 1

So I start my 23 day writing spree in an awkward place. Though I wished I would have started off with a poem of epic proportions, my heart is not in it. Emotionally drained as I am, I have not come to a point where my brain and heart and coordinate in a fashion that produces beautiful work. So instead I write. Just type away as my thoughts laden with underlying emotions present themselves to the paper. My life as a whirlwind is dying down and though I would usually describe this aftermath as standing among the debris, I have no sentiments that I have created a disaster. Though some things felt terribly wrong, nothing has me to the breaking point. I am stronger. I am healthier. I am almost happier. But I most certainly more free. Not that anyone or any one thing kept me chained, but the extent of my circumstances kept me locked in a metaphorical cage from which I was too scared to escape. Though never locked, I knew reality was on the other side of the bars, and it was not a reality I was willing or desiring to face. So I remained caged. For the longest time I was caged. And caged contently at that. But with every new experience comes a time for it to end. To use the lessons learned to better yourself. See, life is a chain of cycles. We experience times of observance, where lessons are learned and experiences are sought, and a time of action, where lessons learned are applied to your past, present, and future. My time of incarceration was one of observance, and more importantly I observed myself from the outside in. For over a year I observed. I had intermittent periods of growth. Times where I stepped out of the cage. Went for a walk. Experienced and grew. And these next 22 days will serve as my reflection. Giving me a chance to utilize the past year of my life and create a new me. Or maybe even find the me that has always been there, under the layers of a tough exterior, and perfect fascade. But at the start of this journey of reflection, I am emotionally drained. The biggest source of the drain lies in my realization that though substitutions sometimes come very close to the original, they are just that, substitutions. And though I thought substituting would work, would absolve this ache, it only made me hurt in a different way. The only thing better than a substitution is the introduction of something new. Something completely different from the rest. Something so off canter that it is refreshing and beautiful. But that beauty is not found in leftovers or spoiled milk. That beauty is not found in old scars or healing wounds. That beauty is not found in dried tears or recently swollen eyes. That beauty can only be found in things never experienced before, never seen before, never felt before. It is this newness that I seek, I yearn, I need. Substitutions are a dangerous thing; now I know.

This Time

First time,
Second time,
Third time..
Fourth.
Why so many times have I heard this shit before?
Talking bout your great, your amazing.
But you just not the one for me.
The first: compliment
Second time: confused.
Third time: i felt like knocking him out of his shoes.
Fourth time though:this time was different.
Because after hearing it so many times
Not only is it my mentality,
But i know that he meant it.
I will never be the one.
I will never be enough.
There will always be a replacement.
There is nothing special about my touch,
my personality.
me.
So instead I guard my heart
A little more than I did before.
Add you to the list of guys that couldnt possibly hurt me more.
I fight the undying desire for old habits to surface.
Praying for the Lord to deliver me.
To offer me solace.
'never regret anything that once made you smile'
So i refuse to let you become a regret.
Because its just not my style.
Maybe one day you'll resurface into my present.
But for now im guarded.
More than before.
Unable to focus.
Too damn sore.


November 8, 2008

My Wish, My Hope, For You

I wish I could swoop down,Hover over you and take all this away.
I wish I could look at you and promise that tomorrow will be a better day.
You tell me your not strong enough.
I wish you would realize that you are.
I wish that you could see the beauty I see,
I wish you didnt have to suffer another scar.
I wish I were there with you,
To take help take the pain away.
I wish I could feel it for you,
I wish I knew what to say.
I wish this were me, not you.
I wish there was something that I could do
I wish things were better right now
I wish things hadnt happened this way.
All these wishes I know i cant make come true.
My deepest wish however,
is that God will bring you through.
I hope you know I love you.
I hope you know I care.
I hope you know that you have me and many others that will always be there.
I hope you realize that everything happens for a reason.
I hope you understand that this pain you feel,
Is sparing you more trouble in a later season.
I hope you know you deserve better.
I hope that you dont give up.
I hope that you understand that 'after the storm there is always a rainbow'.
I hope you see that this is not all God has in store for you.
I hope HE brings you something better; a day of new.
I hope you will find happiness,
Not in earthly things but in the One above.
Because HE is the one that can truly show you love.
I hope this gets easier with each passing day.
I hope that you take all this as a lesson,
To help you grow along the way.
I hope that you dont hold regrets.
I hope that you can let it go.
I hope you know I love you,
I hope that is something you never forget.
I hope that you will rise above.
Because that is what you need to do.
But if that is too hard, Please let me help you through.
This too shall pass.
I promise you that.A
nd there will be a brighter day,
And this only a thing of the past.
I hope you stay true to you,
And never forget that God sent his only begotten son,
For the world, for me, for You!



December 1, 2008

Free Write - Computers

Like a surrogate heart,
You store my everything.
Images of images that I somehow forget,
Documents of work stored and rarely ever sought
Its like you know me,
And almost are me.
Because I open my laptop and see me.
My love.
My interest.
My work.
My school.
And though I store everything in you,
All my trust,
hopes
dreams,
protected by a code that is known only to me,
That is all you do.
Store everything.
Like my heart,
you are a combination of everything I am too scared to get rid of.
Too sore to face.
So I keep everything in you,
Tucked away.
You cannot calm my nerves
You cannot hug me tight.
You cannot be there to protect me on a lonely night
But I still rely on you.
Like nothing else in this world.
The things that you can do I cannot trust to man,
And mans duties I can not assign to you
And though it is easy to forget I must not lose sight of what it is you do.
You store things.
And occasionally run slow.
You serve as my connection to things I want to know.
You sometimes break and practically ask to be broken.
You are no prize token,
But you are my heart.
My surrogate heart.
That is the summation of all Im too scared to get rid of.
The window into my soul.

Pretty Wings----Unedited Version

Words cannot express my emotions
For if they could, I would string them into eloquent sentences and fling them in your face.
But I can't.
Because I fail to understand how I feel.
Lack the ability to formulate a sentence that thoroughly explains my heart.
So instead I write.
Fingertips punching keys as letters become words and words become sentences.
Sentences become emotions.
I am not sad, because sadness lacks power, and power I do have.
I am not angry for anger is bred from a lack of self control, and that I too possess.
Tears have stopped flowing and my throat is too sore to sob.
My limbs have regained strength and my stomach no longer swollen with angst.
I am in effect, unaffected by you, and yet I am still writing
Therefore I am still driven by you.
Numb.
Yet even when a lack of feeling is felt, a feeling is still there to be felt.
So I search for the appropriate word to title this numbness.
Hunt for the right letters to sum what I feel
And come up short.
Had this been a year ago my page would be filled with clever little sayings about how you never make someone a priority when they only make you an option.
But you see I didnt.
My priorities never changed, and when you fell for me I was more than an option.
And had this been some time ago, I would have taken measures in hopes to make you feel the same pain I initially felt,
But you see I didnt take them.
My satisfaction does not rest in your pain, nor do I want to see your heart bleed.
Given a different time, I would have stripped you of my life while simultaneously dangling myself just beyond your grasp, taunting you with my presence, reminding you of everything you walked away from.
But you see I wont do it.
No matter how much time passes, I will never be beyond your grasp because in your life I was more than just a flash, and you in mine more than just a scar.
And there was a time where you would club a baby seal for me,
Just to see me smile!
But no more.
For my smile isnt enough.
And your eyes used to shine bright when I walked into a room,
You were captivated by me.
But no more.
I must have lost my luster.
And my inbox used to be filled with songs that reminded you of me,
But no more.
Because your heart forgot how to sing.
And you say you will always love me
And you know ill always love you
But I guess that love just isnt enough to carry you through.
And they say it takes twice as long to forget as it did to ever learn
So I guess 17 months and two weeks from now Ill have my turn.
But when it comes ill fight to hold on to your memory
Because for some reason, I don't want you to fade.
And trust me, thats not something easy for me to say.
See I know our lives will continue to cross paths.
I am not dilusional enough to think that we will grow old together in a fairytale setting,
For that chapter was never written in my mind.
You wouldnt allow it to be.
I however rest in knowing that the changes spurred by your presence molded me into a better version of me,
A me I always wanted to be, yet never was able to see.
So I became the me that was impossible to be.
The me that opens my heart to a real you.
The me that becomes the girlfriend I was with you.
The me that loses herself just enough to never be lost.
The me that knows who I am at all costs.
So this emotion I feel does not stem from negativity.
But instead from deep seeded gratitude.
Maybe these sentences I wish to fling are not ones of misplaced love,
But thanks for the ability to spread my brand new wings,
And fly again
Like it is the very first time.
So no matter how far I travel,
I'll never be too far away.
And no matter where these wings take me,
Ill never forget how they were built.
Because these pretty wings are built of love.

My Angel

I miss her.
The way her eyes lit up when I walked in the door.
Feet shuffling quickly to embrace me before her limbs could no longer carry her another step.
Arms wrapped shakily around my shoulders,
Mustering every bit of energy left to hug me as if it were her last time.
Captivated by my every word.
Consumed by my every movement.
Entranced by my every smile.
Pride seeped through her skin
Allowing her to glow as though she were an angel straight from the Lord's side.
And she was.
Cliche as it may seem she was.
My sentiments do not stay grounded in only her perception of me
But instead in her ability to see right through me.
Her effortless instincts to protect me.
Because she loved me.
Just as her love hovered over my brother, mother, aunts, and cousins.
Just as the grace bestowed upon her by God was translated into a rare beauty I was blessed to see.
For she saw in everyone the very things we were to0 scared to see in ourselves.
Forgiveness was not a choice but instead an automatic subconscious that would routinely flow from her soul.
She was an angel sent from the Lord's side.
And I miss her.
And yet I took her for granted.
Neglected the opportunities to learn from her mistakes.
Rejected the chance to harness her wisdom.
Dismissed the flighting moments in which I could have stored better memories.
Those picture movies that are never more precious than in times like these.
Because a year after her departure from Earth,
The memories of her suffering overwhelm the memories of her health.
Her pain consumes her happiness.
Her loss dominates my heart.
So I sleep with her picture beside my bed.
Hoping that I can one day see the upset of good over bad.
Exchanging the unwanted memories with those I wish to remember better.
Restoring the picture movie.
Enhancing the past.
Because a year after her departure from this Earth,
I still miss her.

RIP Grandma Sandy.
Forever Loved
Forever Missed

Casaundra Johnson
October 27, 2009
4:28am