Posts: 284
From: One World
Registered: Nov 2009

posted March 08, 2013 08:18 AM            

---

Broken Man

I gave it my all, and it's not enough,
so I tried once more, and tried twice as much,
and still I stumbled and still I fell,
picked myself up again, might as well.

It's like a piece of me was a part of you,
the missing piece that was my glue,
and you gave me strength and direction,
you gave me love and affection.

Somewhere along the way I lost,
I ended up paying the highest cost.

They say the greatest pain is heart ache,
but the greatest pain is when your heart breaks,
when one day you finally awake,
thinking about all your past mistakes.

Could you learn to love a broken man?
Could I ask you to try and understand?
All the pieces blown away by the air,
Lost and scattered alone somewhere.

So I turned to things I didn't need,
things that held me back from being free,
I could see the hurt and pain in your eyes,
as I failed once more but still I tried.

When night has come I watch you sleep,
while I sit here silently and weep,
all the things my heart wants to say,
and still I struggle to find a way.

Somewhere along the way I lost,
I ended up paying the highest cost.

They say the greatest pain is heart ache,
but the greatest pain is when your heart breaks,
when one day you finally awake,
thinking about all of your past mistakes.

Could you learn to love a broken man?
Could I ask you to try and understand?
All the pieces blown away by the air,
Lost and scattered alone somewhere

I look at all that's beautiful and thats good,
I urge myself to care, if only I could,
The sun it shines but I feel so numb,
Look at the broken man that i've become.

So I pick myself up and carry on,
follow the footsteps now to where you've gone,
I don't know if I want you to see me now,
yet you love me still, I don't know how.

Somewhere along the way I lost,
I ended up paying the highest cost,

They say the greatest pain is heart ache
but the greatest pain is when your heart breaks
when one day you finally awake
thinking about all of your past mistakes

Could you learn to love a broken man?
Could I ask you to try and understand?
All the pieces blown away by the air,
Lost and scattered alone somewhere,

Could you learn to love a broken man?

- Chris

------------------
Learn lots. Don't judge. Laugh for no reason. Be nice. Seek Happiness. Follow your dreams.

IP: Logged

Posts: 861
From: us
Registered: May 2012

posted March 08, 2013 11:51 AM            

---

Swift Freeze.... Chris, So much pain endured in a private isolation! Lovingly, can YOU embrace this 'broken man' within your own self? Can you accept and trust your own inner lover, and receive and let him love YOU back?... Never letting you go again, or be lost to any place or cause? "You" are its core.

We're loving your open expressions here at LL.... Your reflections are precious.

Healing together with you! {{{hugs}}}

IP: Logged

Posts: 26947
From: Saturn next to Charmainec
Registered: Apr 2009

posted March 10, 2013 03:22 PM            

---

IP: Logged

Posts: 6431
From: Venus next to Randall
Registered: Apr 2009

posted March 13, 2013 02:17 AM            

---

So sad. Many can relate to this.

------------------

quote:

---

Remember, love can conquer the influences of the planets....It can even eliminate karma.

---

Linda Goodman

IP: Logged

Posts: 4463
From:
Registered: Jul 2011

posted March 15, 2013 10:58 AM            

---

^ Yes. I relate very strongly to this.

It makes me wonder about the nature of love: is it really possible to fall deeply in love, over and over again? Or does the first time tend to "break" a person so they never have a whole heart to give, ever again?

I suppose it's different for everyone, but the older I get, the more I encounter people who have never really gotten over the first person they deeply loved.

It took me years...over a decade...to recover from losing my "ex soulmate"...but by "recover," I probably mean something more like forget. If I were put in a room alone with him now, I suspect we'd go right back to that intense, all-consuming chemistry; we knew no other way of how to be.

But it didn't work out...maybe it never could work out. I just chose to not live my life mourning what I lost.

Sorry if this is tangential, but it's what the poem stirred up in me, and my story isn't uncommon or overly personal, so I thought I would share it.

Evocative as usual, Chris!

IP: Logged

Posts: 26947
From: Saturn next to Charmainec
Registered: Apr 2009

posted March 15, 2013 12:13 PM            

---

Each heartbreak scars the heart, but also makes it grow larger and ultimately capable of more love.

IP: Logged

Posts: 4463
From:
Registered: Jul 2011

posted March 15, 2013 02:49 PM            

---

^ That's what Carly Simon says..."Don't mind if I fall apart, there's more room in a broken heart."

I guess this is true for some people.

IP: Logged

Posts: 284
From: One World
Registered: Nov 2009

posted March 17, 2013 01:07 PM            

---

Scar tissue is far less malleable, and does not have the same degree of movement as 'healthy' tissue.

- Chris

------------------
Learn lots. Don't judge. Laugh for no reason. Be nice. Seek Happiness. Follow your dreams.

IP: Logged

Posts: 82
From:
Registered: Dec 2012

posted April 17, 2013 06:51 PM            

---

Heart-felt...

_____

Thought you might like this...

THE BISHOP WORKS, Chapter XII, Volume I, Book Second, Les Miserables

The next morning at sunrise Monseigneur Bienvenu was strolling in his garden. Madame Magloire ran up to
him in utter consternation.
"Monseigneur, Monseigneur!" she exclaimed, "does your Grace know where the basket of silver is?"
"Yes," replied the Bishop.
"Jesus the Lord be blessed!" she resumed; "I did not know what had become of it."
The Bishop had just picked up the basket in a flower-bed. He presented it to Madame Magloire.
"Here it is."
"Well!" said she. "Nothing in it! And the silver?"
"Ah," returned the Bishop, "so it is the silver which troubles you? I don't know where it is."
"Great, good God! It is stolen! That man who was here last night has stolen it."
In a twinkling, with all the vivacity of an alert old woman, Madame Magloire had rushed to the oratory,
entered the alcove, and returned to the Bishop. The Bishop had just bent down, and was sighing as he
examined a plant of cochlearia des Guillons, which the basket had broken as it fell across the bed. He rose up
at Madame Magloire's cry.
"Monseigneur, the man is gone! The silver has been stolen!"
As she uttered this exclamation, her eyes fell upon a corner of the garden, where traces of the wall having
been scaled were visible. The coping of the wall had been torn away.
"Stay! yonder is the way he went. He jumped over into Cochefilet Lane. Ah, the abomination! He has stolen
our silver!"
The Bishop remained silent for a moment; then he raised his grave eyes, and said gently to Madame
Magloire:--
"And, in the first place, was that silver ours?"
Madame Magloire was speechless. Another silence ensued; then the Bishop went on:--
"Madame Magloire, I have for a long time detained that silver wrongfully. It belonged to the poor. Who was
that man? A poor man, evidently."
"Alas! Jesus!" returned Madame Magloire. "It is not for my sake, nor for Mademoiselle's. It makes no
difference to us. But it is for the sake of Monseigneur. What is Monseigneur to eat with now?"
The Bishop gazed at her with an air of amazement.
"Ah, come! Are there no such things as pewter forks and spoons?"
Madame Magloire shrugged her shoulders.
"Pewter has an odor."
"Iron forks and spoons, then."
Madame Magloire made an expressive grimace.
"Iron has a taste."
"Very well," said the Bishop; "wooden ones then."
A few moments later he was breakfasting at the very table at which Jean Valjean had sat on the previous
evening. As he ate his breakfast, Monseigneur Welcome remarked gayly to his sister, who said nothing, and to
Madame Magloire, who was grumbling under her breath, that one really does not need either fork or spoon,
even of wood, in order to dip a bit of bread in a cup of milk.
"A pretty idea, truly," said Madame Magloire to herself, as she went and came, "to take in a man like that! and
to lodge him close to one's self! And how fortunate that he did nothing but steal! Ah, mon Dieu! it makes one
shudder to think of it!"
As the brother and sister were about to rise from the table, there came a knock at the door.
"Come in," said the Bishop.
The door opened. A singular and violent group made its appearance on the threshold. Three men were holding
a fourth man by the collar. The three men were gendarmes; the other was Jean Valjean.
A brigadier of gendarmes, who seemed to be in command of the group, was standing near the door. He
entered and advanced to the Bishop, making a military salute.
"Monseigneur--" said he.
At this word, Jean Valjean, who was dejected and seemed overwhelmed, raised his head with an air of
stupefaction.
"Monseigneur!" he murmured. "So he is not the cure?"
"Silence!" said the gendarme. "He is Monseigneur the Bishop."
In the meantime, Monseigneur Bienvenu had advanced as quickly as his great age permitted.
"Ah! here you are!" he exclaimed, looking at Jean Valjean. "I am glad to see you. Well, but how is this? I
gave you the candlesticks too, which are of silver like the rest, and for which you can certainly get two
hundred francs. Why did you not carry them away with your forks and spoons?"
Jean Valjean opened his eyes wide, and stared at the venerable Bishop with an expression which no human
tongue can render any account of.
"Monseigneur," said the brigadier of gendarmes, "so what this man said is true, then? We came across him.
He was walking like a man who is running away. We stopped him to look into the matter. He had this silver--"
"And he told you," interposed the Bishop with a smile, "that it had been given to him by a kind old fellow of a
priest with whom he had passed the night? I see how the matter stands. And you have brought him back here?
It is a mistake."
"In that case," replied the brigadier, "we can let him go?"
"Certainly," replied the Bishop.
The gendarmes released Jean Valjean, who recoiled.
"Is it true that I am to be released?" he said, in an almost inarticulate voice, and as though he were talking in
his sleep.
"Yes, thou art released; dost thou not understand?" said one of the gendarmes.
"My friend," resumed the Bishop, "before you go, here are your candlesticks. Take them."
He stepped to the chimney-piece, took the two silver candlesticks, and brought them to Jean Valjean. The two
women looked on without uttering a word, without a gesture, without a look which could disconcert the
Bishop.
Jean Valjean was trembling in every limb. He took the two candlesticks mechanically, and with a bewildered
air.
"Now," said the Bishop, "go in peace. By the way, when you return, my friend, it is not necessary to pass
through the garden. You can always enter and depart through the street door. It is never fastened with
anything but a latch, either by day or by night."
Then, turning to the gendarmes:--
"You may retire, gentlemen."
The gendarmes retired.
Jean Valjean was like a man on the point of fainting.
The Bishop drew near to him, and said in a low voice:--
"Do not forget, never forget, that you have promised to use this money in becoming an honest man."
Jean Valjean, who had no recollection of ever having promised anything, remained speechless. The Bishop
had emphasized the words when he uttered them. He resumed with solemnity:--
"Jean Valjean, my brother, you no longer belong to evil, but to good. It is your soul that I buy from you; I
withdraw it from black thoughts and the spirit of perdition, and I give it to God."

IP: Logged