love is a cold and broken hallelujah


The white horse, the red queen, the black light. I am no longer a virgin, to him or any other god. Bring on the end. I am Her. The entire circle and whoever enters, is mine. Down here, the winds blow.


 ruined. she laid her head on a rock. cold. she opened the door. devastation. alone, always alone. the empty room, i am flat. there is a stab that went dull. there is an anger that perished. it was less than me, i outlast them all. words don’t come to say to you, how she feels. nothing comes but the space inside her expanding. drowning out his voice, the hum. the low void, the passing clouds inside. and so i sit down here now slowly typing. listening to a heater try to warm me. feeling myself to be a vacancy strangely holding dark matter in space. i know you want something. down here there is nothing but the wind…


I felt the feelings and I didn’t move. I let everything fall that I was holding. There are no words for what I felt as I did what I had to do. My stomach had churned for days. This is not a time to remember but to forget. Let go and destroy. Ruthlessly whatever remains. I have done hard things around death and dying. But to kill while still living out of love is an altogether more tormenting initiation. I can’t leave him like this, but I must. Kill the mirror looking back. That was me today. My eyes weren’t blue at all, they were opals inside of his, burning pink flames casting gold daggers. This is the initiation into dimensions I would rather not see, ones I’ve heard of, today I felt. What happens at the end, every end. There is something loose and we unravel. The knots stay tight. Circulation increases to the extremities but the middle gets left to disperse however it can to keep the disowned pain down. The pain we turn to numb so that it devours us secretly. A mouth turned inward becomes our whole body, sucking this world to keep out the light. This phantom pain does that, we lurk for a time we can’t know within lines we can’t cross, imagining all sorts of ways we are free. This parasite comes from a hell deeper than he even has described, a subtle sinister overlay that isn’t one of the seven layers, isn’t a layer at all but more like a poisonous dust. We breath in and out, we obey. He was weak and rounded. He had given up on himself to this. Resented himself without definition because of me. Resorted to religion. Folded over and gave in to the distorted image in the dirty endless mirror. Although he said, “No that’s not true,” and, “We’re all dying.” I see the bending shadow, the reflection’s glare in my eyes, when he looks at me, beyond the perplexing dichotomy and disruption of current, I am seeing something rise that I always suspected. I gave warnings of danger, I gave all of my light. All I could muster from my own dismal depths was a pebble etched with a memory. Inside I hear the voice calling and I drop all possession, I have nothing. I am possessed. I follow the voice into darkness. I hear the voice pulling from terrifying corners, where ancient stars meet. Where old scars were formed, where wars started. Where I met him long ago at the peak. Destruction takes time in ways we can never comprehend. Creation depends on this decay. There should be more love, is what I thought. true love from the bottom of time. But what do I know about love and how vast the implication might be. That I would attempt a love that would destroy and seem cruel, but I did. I am bigger than myself or time. Than the face bearing lines in the mirror. I held a tree up for an eon. Roots came up from below and wrapped around me until I disappeared inside the earth’s spiral. My feelings have almost killed me many times. This acute intensity of unbearable emotion becomes a sort of character death in itself. I tried to find something. I gave everything to this something. My own safety, all of anything I had. I gave it all to him. For the love beyond this body. I gave my body. I made myself the sacrifice and hung from the hook of his moon horn crying God…love is a cold and broken hallelujah. Sharada DeviIMG_5065

4 thoughts on “love is a cold and broken hallelujah”

  1. I love Leanard Cohen, as he uncompromisingly kept touching the pain and the darkness, which to me is truthful and light bringing. One of his last songs was “you want it darker”, god and heart touching

  2. “My feelings almost killed me many times. ” How well I know this …. so many times, I nearly drowned in my own tears until I could hardly breathe. Nearly suffocated. I turned my love lamp on so bright but blinded those I loved with its intensity. I have bent over so many times in my life to hold up those I love and then pushed them away because they could not give me what I gave them. I exhausted myself. Completely. I suppose I have grown old and cold over the years. I don’t care. I am a loner. I only turn my lamp on so high…and I only do it when I want to. My heart is with you. C.Ma

    1. These feelings when you go there
      you know there’s no turning back,
      that river moves and has a heart
      all its own…death strikes the heart
      with a light that brings love…
      I hope! ♥️♥️♥️

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