the life and musings of a kinky slut

Written Raw

Rope Camp Memories continued…

Written Raw, a poem

My tears wait on the edges of my lids, permission for their exit pending. Overwhelming emotions, conflicting joy and sorrow, push and pull my heart to pieces. Hiding the tornado of feelings, my face gives the world a smile, or a grin, or a smirk, all lies to appease the soft sensibilities of the herd. If only they knew what my true face looked like: twisted, wrenched with a pain so deep it takes physical form in my puffed cheeks, my tense forehead, my wailing eyes. This version of me I hide from them all.

Alone, my only company the croaking of frogs and the chirping of insects, I still don’t allow the tears to come. Even now, I lock away my pain, but from who?

I know I aimed too high, lived too fast, loved too quickly. And so I’m stuck, the unhealthy thoughts drowning my heart, the weight of their constant barrage pulling me down. When will my life be all that I hope for, all that I wish for, all I dream of? When will I really, actually, truly be happy?

I feast on my salty tears, now. Maybe I will be able to fall asleep tonight.


I wrote this poem, sitting in HQ, the dim illumination of a clip light guiding my hand. Bugs swirled about, and the frogs sung me a lullaby, as I scribbled my thoughts in eloquent phrases, trying to give beauty to my sadness.

It took me putting these words to paper to understand the pain I was in. I had not realized how much I’d come to love my adopted cabin, and how much I would miss them when we all had to part ways. With my takedown now scratched, and the ache of the hurt and disappointment still raw, there was no other adventure to look forward to, no other scheme or scene to plan or play. All that was left was breakfast and goodbyes.

I fell asleep soon after completing that poem, the dam of emotions inside me broken, my outward masked face washed away. That night I cuddled with Cabin Shell, pushing the sadness from my mind, allowing myself to sink into a denial of how hard the next day would be.

Categorised as: Emotional | Poem | RCM

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