He has a keepsake box,

though it's hard to find

Because it's hidden deep

in the corner of his mind

She left it there with him

Along with the kids

Stuffed with pain more potent

than caustic acids

Master of feigning strength

The hurt rarely shows

But through the box seeps

Cries of his sorrows

I'm not the only one

Close enough to hear

Yet I feel like his pain

Falls only to my ear

I see the keepsake box

He tries so hard to hide

Because I have my own box

Lurking deep inside

Buried in the darkest

Corner of my heart

So deep that from this box

I will never part

He still has a chance

To be rid of his box

To clear out all the hurt

Before the latch locks

If I could, I would surely

Rip the box lid out

Free feelings of fear

Cast away all his doubt

Then I'd refill the box

With everything good

Bring millions of smiles

To his face if I could

But this is a feat

I can't do on my own

And one that he shouldn't

Have to battle alone

I don't mind the drive

And I'm not scared of work

I'll help where I can

Even when he's a jerk

And as long as he wants

Our friendship to be

He won't fight alone

Cause he'll always have me

The corners of my soul were barren

when he ambled in breathtaking promise

to the corner of my locked shell where

I was hiding from life and misery.

I grabbed my arising joy,

trying to contain it within myself,

overcome as my pulse quickened

with the overwhelming appeal

of his masculinity which touched

the yearning corners of my heart.

I felt as if I were being drawn,

force of a magnet attracting me

to my new home – I belonged.

I needed him with every fiber

of my being and opened my body

to beauty of what he had to offer.

I blossomed in his caress

as he stroked my longing skin,

awakened my dormant desire.

I was alive once more, as he

parted my legs and thrust

his manhood within, bringing

me to a crashing conclusion

pulling my hips towards him

as he kissed my breasts and

licked my liquids with his tongue.

“Wasn’t this what I had wanted?”

I questioned as I became alarmed,

afraid of committing myself

to someone who possessed

uncertainties in my mind.

I had been destroyed in the past

by promises unfulfilled

I felt cornered in my soul

and knew, in my heart,

I was unwilling to take a chance

           Once More.

She spins a web of light 

      inside 

            her 

                mind

She turns it up so bright it

      leaves 

            her 

                 blind

It's the corners that she fears

The places where she hides her tears

She tries but there is 

        no 

              illumination

                             there

The darkness snuffs out light and 

       leaves 

               it 

                    bare

The blackness hides her pain

Failure in spite she tried in vain

In the dark she doesn't have to

       face

               her

                      past

The light she tries to spread there

             doesn't

                         last

She won't beg to be atoned

She only longs to be alone

The corners of her mind are 

           dark

                 as 

                     night

What she'd see there would only

          give

                her

                     fright

The memories are blocked

Relief to her that they are locked.

In my mind there is a dark place

It is where I hide my real face

It is not kind it is hard and worn

Full of anger topped off with scorn

Outside I smile and pretend I care

But I don´t when I´m lost in there

I am a narcissistic sociopath this I know

But what good is a weapon of mass destruction if it is on show?

© M.Withers/M.Strudwick . All rights reserved.

Both the name The EriduSerpent/EriduSerpent

and any written material is owned solely by the above named.

Permission granted for all written material to be shared but not for profit.

Printing or publishing is prohibited without seeking permission first from said owner.

Hush little one, don't say a word

Hush my little darling, don't even look

At that little corner of that pitch black room

I promise I won't hurt you, just go, shoo!

Hush little child, you are a child no more

So stop walking inside that pitch black room

Stop it my darling that is not a toy

Do not roll your sleeves, stop it my boy!

Hush little child, you arrived at the corner

I have warned you enough yet you ignored my order

Why are you kneeling? Are you insane?

Why did you get that shiny old blade?

Hush little one, the room is no longer dark

For you have painted it red, straight from your heart

That little corner of the pitch black room

Now has a new victim and one will follow soon

In every mind, there is a world, a fear, a truth buried deep within a secret corner that is accessible only to the host of it. Very rarely do we acknowledge that corner but it is there and it is the truest part of your soul. 

For years I rejected what I knew was in my corner. I rejected the realization that I lack all ability to love and yet I treasure it above all else. My heart was like a patient fighting for their life; they see where they need to be, they see the healing that could come, and in their minds they are chasing after it, drawing nearer with every shaking breath and then, one day, their body fails. They slip into a sleep from which they will never wake. And the saddest part is that their soul convinces itself they have reached healing because the physical pain has stopped. Their soul creates a world to protect itself from the truth that their body failed.

That is what my love looks like. I try to invest in other people and pour into their lives and when I have almost reached that point, I fall short, and harm and break those close to me. So, I build a world around my dying heart because it cannot bear the truth that it is incapable of really loving anything. 

The worst part about that corner of your mind is that you never see what's hidden there until it has already begun to destroy you. And the battle to break down those walls that you've built around it is one you will face again and again because it is the truest part of your soul and that is something you can never escape.

Corners, where two edges find each other

are a meeting place where boundaries,

otherwise separate,

intersect, merge, change each other’s course

and then dead end.

Corners set the boundaries that edges can only hope to do.

You can follow a wall with your fingers.

Walls are not immune to touching.

But, when you touch a corner

it is hard to you, resists you, is not seduced by you.

Edges passively go with the flow of your hand

but, corners say, “halt.

None shall pass.

Not even you.”

And the corner is not unforgiving.

It creates a pocket for you to slip into

if you need it,

if you can no longer keep running your hand

along the same yellow wallpaper.

That pocket is like your mother’s womb:

Surrounded by only two walls

yet providing the shelter of a darkness

that resists even the light of an open door.

A boy's father died when he was nine,

And his memories were made of what he could find.  

In his young age, the boy was frantic, 

of looking through the suspicious attic. 

For each night, there were creaks and moans, 

which made him think he wasn't alone. 

Yet confidence arose, at age fourteen, 

 to walk across the attic beams. 

Despite the darkness, he found loads, 

letters, hats, and drawers of clothes. 

Pencils with tips of sharpened led, 

in the corner, a carefully preserved bed. 

A plethora of paintings, nailed to the wall, 

showed his father's most treasured skill of all. 

But the boy looked intently at a corner, 

as fear caused his head to burn warmer. 

For the corner of a painting surely showed, 

That it was only fashioned a day ago. 

#hannelorebrun