Beautiful And Poisonous Poem by Leah Ayliffe

How can it be
That I live out such luxurious day
with a sinking hurt in the deep blues.
How is it so,
When I have everything,
all I do is want more.
How can it be
That I've been given all I ask
In round about mysterious ways
In slow dances on the sly
that makes me smile at the devious way of the universe's footwork.
It seems so complex, demanding,
Earth shattering from reality,
All I really want
Is the grace of kindness found in love.
I don't know when I started carrying it around.
Hurt.
It's the only word that comes to mind
It wasn't there before.
It's all I feel these days
Under summer's sun
Gorgeous poolside days
In the back yard
Bright flowers in the garden
Barefoot and music.
Everything that once alleviated my anxiety
Calmed the chaos,
Nurtured the fear of having fear itself.
It's still beautiful,
It brings me nothing now.
I feel like a ghost looking into a life I once walked
And feel no attachment.
I am in no hurry
I was scared about the future and those things
And sometimes still am.
It worries me during the moments I forget to not worry
It is a wasteful endeavor.
Similar to spending the days under the umbrella of thoughts thatc used to haunt me,
From being broken hearted by the world as a child
Rather than a boy.
It was an unusual scar for a young girl to wear.
It matters not anymore.
Sometimes I fear I've cooled down far too cold.
Like my soul is in a constant war between freezing and melting;
Its shade becomes more ice blue every time I hit the floor.

Lilac trees that guard my haven
Why do you die so early in the season?
I am all shades between black and white
From the morning birds sweet song to the evening doves sad cry.
I am happy to be here
I will love the hours I deem sacred and rare.
Well aware of how bad it is
That I play mind games with myself and the rest of them
Without even meaning to.
It gets me where I want
And where I want them too.
Until it's not what I had envisioned
Because no one dares to really go where I pray to be.
Maybe that's why my mind is always changing -
Defending and justifying why the things I want cannot be mine
Turn a cheek
With the change of direction in the wind
I float above the disappointment and move to begin a new ambition.
That's my style.
Or it used to be.
Now I'm sitting here lost inside my head and wanting more.
To be able to point at something, some place, someone,
Knowing it's real and mine and here to stay no matter how many times I change my mind on daily matters and philosophies.
I'm tired of this hurt.
The only hands that are red are my own.
It's getting hard to ignore.
I don't listen to when they all call
I don't want to go out with people like that anymore.
I say no because I now know when I want to say yes.
There is a space where I want to say yes
but no one is asking, even on my best days.
These summer days will not console my heart like the lullaby it used to be.
Just when I think I've figured out what I want
I let my mind play these games all in the name of keeping from heartache
I can't let someone else gain the power to hurt me.
I think it's too late anyway when you see the end of all things before they ever had the chance to begin.

There I go again. Be still my mind.
Forget my soul. My heart, please let me go.
The only time I feel peace is when I am with someone who makes me forget about time itself.
Be quiet, like the words you never speak.
The hurt will fade away through poetry and prose
The hurt will be a keep sake in nostalgia, beautiful and poisonous,
Like a rose and its thorns.
A flower I grew in my own wild garden
That I prick my finger on time and time again,
To fall asleep in eternal slumber
Refusing to take the sharp thorn rose
From anyone else but myself.