The Fictional Suicide of Unrecognisable Me

“Overblown and dramatic!” You judge from the outside

But I Question this godless, emptyΒ vacuum

Waiting for something to save me

A religious residue from a life left behind

You say, “It must be hard to find anyone, when.”

“When I’m still living in limbo with him.” I reply, my heart

Sinking again.

If one more helpful stranger tells me

What I already know

This feeling will get deeper,

The time, longer

So I dream of my own fictitious ending.

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81 thoughts on “The Fictional Suicide of Unrecognisable Me

  1. ironic – i live on the same street awaiting the same delivery but I’m sure conversation over coffee would stir very interesting cream. Does the cat blink … nap … yawn? Would you say her staring occupies an unhealthy portion of kitty time? Maybe she just finds you very interesting & pleasing to look at. Thank you for visiting my vowels, Cheryl. I look fwd to wading in yours. – tim

  2. Cheryl – I remembered leaving a comment & didn’t see it – figured I hadn’t hit ‘post’ or something but hopped back to see’em waiting. I hope they didn’t come across weird. I won’t be offended if you just delete them. – tim

  3. Cheryl,

    What a haunting and insightful piece. Your depth of awareness and how your writing presents your emotions in such a well crafted and lyrical way is stunning. Bravo!

    Thank you for following my blog too. “Beyond The Cracked Window” it is very appreciated.

    Stephen.

  4. Mmmm, great poem. I really like (and know) that notion of ‘unrecognizable me’ and not knowing ourselves, especially in a certain relationship. Perhaps I’m reading some of that into it, but that’s what I got and I really liked your poem.

  5. I think the last line is my favorite. I enjoy your choice of words. Do you ever submit your poetry for publication, or do you post some on your blog and save others for submission? Thank you.

    • Hi, thank you. I’ve not had any poetry published yet, as it’s something I’m doing on the side (besides short stories and novels) I’ve been concentrating on publishing those rather than these. Thanks for reading, I appreciate it.

  6. Hello- I wanted to say Hi and thank you for visiting my blog and following – this is the piece I see first and boy oh boy, I know this. I know this so well. Wow – πŸ™‚

  7. I can deeply relate. To me writing and reading are escapes where I get to be anyone from anywhere, possibly with the strength to be what I wish I was.
    Very well written.

  8. β€œIt must be hard to find anyone, when.
    When I’m still living in limbo with him.”

    So perfectly expressed.

  9. I recognise…. the feeling and the being in your poem. Wondering if the ‘fictional suicide’ of the unrecognizable self, could be turned into the birth of the recognizable self? πŸ™‚

  10. Love the last line/title. It reminds me of Mark Twain’s comment “Fiction is a lie, and good fiction is the truth inside the lie.” We are what we think we are- help hinder; hinder help – hence the continual round of the heroines journey to the underworld and back – really nice poem. Thanks

  11. You are reading my mind, Cheryl. Dammmmm. Spooky and yet universally anecdotal, too. I am super glad I clicked on your avatar this morning, and happened upon what must be a new facet to your blogging. This is exactly my cup of tea!! I am going to go read some leaves, now…

  12. Beautiful poem. I shall contemplate some of the things you said, especially the “helpful stranger” bit. That speaks volumes to me. Hmm.
    Thank you for this haunting piece. I look forward to reading more.
    \o/

  13. ….religious residue–I completely understand, and so much of the pain felt that saccharine platitudes and shallow reassurances do nothing for. Thank you for this piece, for sharing the deepest parts of you with the rest of us.

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