Soul Stealing Trenches

You 

gave your soul away once. It was locked away, and then you swallowed the key whole until it sank to the darkest pit of your round stomach, covered in stomach acid and slime. I could jump down your throat and go for a swim in the toxic trenches in search for the small golden key. However, I know that once I was down there covered in acid and slime you would regurgitate it and throw it out the car window on your way to your 9-5 job in the city. It would lay on the side walk for a curious stranger to pick up in confusion and toss away not knowing that it was important, not knowing what it could unlock. My point is, you were never unleashing your soul into my hands. You were never wearing it on your shirt sleeve for me to pick up and cradle with cautious, delicate fingertips. I could not find your soul in the window of your eyes which sunk deep behind your eyelids as we made love in between blue sheets of dishonesty and despair. It was gone, your face was blank as you watched me leave you like you once did your soul. You left it in some far away lock box in some other woman's closet for safe keeping because she told you it would be safe there in the dark. I left, I promise I did not take anything with me, as you did not give me a special thing to take except empty canisters of  future wishes and tear drops filled with your sorrow. I screamed out at night for the longing of your soul, for a peak of what could have draped its arms around me and drenched me in sunlight. When in reality I was drenched in the arms of your shadow, of the darkness you carried around in your pocket and handed me on one sunny day along with the air tight canisters of your future wishes that I wish I never accepted. Wishes were all that they were, wishes that you did not give your soul away so easily to a woman who did not know what to do with it. She locked it in that lock box and shoved it in her closet behind her cobwebs while handing you a golden key to give to your next hopeful lover. Sadly, that next hopeful lover was me. All I wanted was to set your damn soul free, but the only wishful thinking soul in this story was me.

-M.D.L

The sheep and the wolf.

Sometimes

I feel like a wolf and sometimes I feel like a sheep. There are days when there are heavy mixtures of both running through my veins. I am bold, and howl at the moon in the middle of the night stalking prey. However, I am also weak and fleeting, ready to run at the first sound that radiates within my eardrums. Its hard being both a sheep and a wolf. I often wonder if sometimes the two take on opposite roles within me, if sometimes the wolf is weak and vulnerable and the sheep is the one who stands its ground. I dont have many predators, just admires. Its hard to hate a wolf for hunting or sheep for being helpless, they both do what they can to keep me thriving, surviving. I battle the wolf and the sheep within my soul daily. There is this urge to run free, to growl at those wanting to caress my fur and tame my heart. Then there is an urge to stay still, cower down and convert to having an owner who can shave my fur and sell it for the highest penny. Do you have a sheep and wolf within your soul? Who takes over your mind when you have to make a heavy decision? Mine is both. Damn it is it both. Both the wolf and the sheep within me go to battle and there is bloodshed every. single. time. When a wolf hunts a sheep, often times the sheep will be so terrified that it will lead itself to its own death by accidentally running of a cliff or right into the teeth of the wolf. The wolf in me will camouflage itself behind a bush waiting for the sheep to come out. However, often if in a group, a sheep may be capable of stampeding a wolf and stomping it to death. I am often a sheep who stands alone and my strategy is to run from the wolf, pleading surrender.  They both have their strategies and I weigh them both heavily. "In this situation do I deserve to be a wolf or to be a sheep?" This is the question I ask myself often and hardly ever have an answer. To be sensitive or not sensitive. I think we all have versions of animals within our souls who battle. Its funny though, because often I find that the wolf and the sheep are both battling over the same cause, to survive, thrive and be happy the best they know how. Do not kill the sheep or the wolf that is inside your soul, because often you may need to be both and that is ultimately okay. Be the sheep and be the wolf.

Do you know where love comes from?

For the longest

time I thought love was something to be received.

Something that you scavengly look for in dark corners, bright book stores, and coffee shops. I thought you would happen upon love if you properly looked in the correct places where it hid.

You would find it grab it by the neck and stuff it in your pocket to carry home. I was wrong. Damn, was I wrong.

Love is something you radiate out of your pours, your smile, your very fucking being.

If they would have told me growing up that love was free, I would have spent a lot more time being me.

You dont have to capture something that you already carry within.

-M.D.L