Sand Castles wash away with the Waves too

The waves crash
and I can feel the tremble amidst the sea that adds weight to every breath I try and breathe
as it tries to wash me from the throne,
hurricane terrors,
forces present but unknown,
with water cupped in my closed fingers,
the same hands that have never found a warm set that stays,
still crossing my fingers as I pursue the uncharted leagues,
seeking the touch of the peppered sands and the joy it is said to bring,
another item I have yet to cross off my bucket list,
and they say exfoliating will reveal the softness,
and maybe my fear is that it’s exactly true,
to be cleansed would be to be removed,
with ears and eyes in the sand, only thinking of what I’ve been told.

am I rescinded from truth?
as with every rise, there is a fall too,
from autumn to the depths buried beyond the darkest shades of blue,
perhaps it is every one of the letters left on read,
perhaps,
just once
I wish
my absence,
maybe,
hurt you too?

as my glass further empties,
with every line and stanza telling me that this was poetry in my muse,
a prose that collides every day just as present and past often do,

my bewildered reflections wear the same attire I’ve always had,
tattered by my blood you told me not to stain,
now it’s just another quote from childhood steeped in disdain,
with clothing that’s indifferent as it issues command,
with labels cut, I’m left wondering who I really am.

there are faces that spell anger,
as if I couldn’t tell by the shrills of the constant yells,
when I wake, when I sleep,
thirty years later now, and they still keep practicing in my head,
sometimes littering the faces just behind their eyes,
my voice is silent as I fill in theirs with opinions and conversations that we never had,

over
and
over
again,
another score to all the rent-free voices in my head,

where they devour all in your fridge,
and without a word, they have taken their spot in making a mess of your bed,
wetting it with nightmares where not a word can be willed to be said aloud in the darkest room I call home,
here we are, left wondering when and if the soul can ever be fully consoled.

I told myself I didn’t choose this Hell,
I told myself even when I couldn’t see the face value in myself,
relapse and disappointment taught me I am absolutely the master of my truth,
yes, I exist,
but I don’t need to exist for you.