The Unraveling of Bliss: A Symphony of Disarray #poetry #potd

I Got Coated in the Sensation of Pleasure

It began with a breath, or perhaps a whisper—
a silk-threaded illusion draped upon my skin,
soft, like the morning after rain, like honey dissolving on the tongue.
I let it settle, this sensation, this fleeting stroke of pleasure,
a lullaby hummed by unseen lips, a dream untangling itself in real time.

A touch here, a murmur there, a pulse beneath fingertips—
the weightlessness of being understood, the euphoria of belief.
The world bent itself into ribbons,
wrapped me tight in the velvet promise of joy unshaken.

Every moment tasted of gold and sugar,
of mirages that never threatened to fade.
I was a child inside a bubble, a melody without dissonance,
coated in the wax of a candle that swore never to melt.

But the wax did melt.
And the sugar turned bitter.
And the gold rusted into something I could not name.

You Said Inner Peace Is a State of Bliss

You fed me words like petals, soft and deceptive,
spooning wisdom like honey into a mouth that knew no better.
Inner peace, you said, was a lake without ripples,
a garden where nothing withers, where silence is sweet.

Bliss, you called it.
The absence of trouble, the final form of the self,
a space where the world bends its knees to my will.
I believed you.
I swallowed the words whole, let them settle in my gut
like seeds waiting to sprout into an eternal spring.

But what of the storms?
What of the fire that chews through the roots?
What of the howling wolves that nest in the marrow of my bones?

You never mentioned those.
You never warned me that peace is not the absence of war,
but the ability to stand within it, unshaken.

You Said I Will Never Experience Any Troubles or Hard Feelings

What a grand and foolish prophecy.
You wrapped me in it like a second skin,
stitched it tight against my ribs so I’d never doubt it.

Never?
A life without trouble?
A world where nothing claws, nothing aches, nothing shatters?

Yet, I have seen my hands tremble in the dark,
felt the sharp edges of sorrow carve valleys into my chest.
I have watched silence grow fangs,
and laughter fold itself into something unrecognizable.

Where were you when the first crack split the sky?
Where were you when the tide turned, dragging me under?
You left me with a map that led to nowhere,
directions scrawled in ink that faded with the first drops of rain.

She Said This Is Far from the Truth

She stood at the threshold of my illusions,
arms crossed, eyes knowing.
Her voice held no softness, no honeyed reassurance.
Only truth, raw and unblinking.

“This is a lie,” she whispered.
“This is not how the world works.”

I wanted to argue.
To tell her you had promised.
To tell her I had built myself upon your words,
that I had grown gardens in the shape of your certainty.

She shook her head.
She pressed her hand to my chest,
felt the fault lines forming beneath my ribs.
“You are not untouchable,” she said.
“You were never meant to be.”

She Knew the Vast Majority of Life Is a Long Series of Uncontrollable Events

She told me to watch the river.
To count the leaves carried by the current,
to track the ripples, the undulations, the restless dance.

Nothing remains still, she said.
Nothing stays in place.

And I? I was foolish enough to believe I could hold it all,
that I could keep the sky from shifting,
that I could catch the wind in my hands and tell it to be still.

Life unraveled before me,
a ribbon with no end,
a story told in waves and thunder.

She knew.
She always knew.

And I, too slow, too blind—
I learned.

I Realized That Things Will Eventually Happen That Are Not to My Liking

There are days when the sky turns the wrong shade of blue,
when the air tastes of rust, when my shadow moves against me.

There are days when doors close before I can knock,
when voices weave lies into my hair,
when time unspools and leaves me grasping at nothing.

This is not what I wanted.
This is not what I was promised.

And yet—
here it is.

Difficult Times Come in Waves

A single wave never drowns you.
It is the second, the third, the fourth—
the relentless onslaught, the pulling under, the weight of it all.

I have stood at the shore, defiant.
I have willed the tides to retreat,
shouted against the rising water, fists clenched, teeth bared.

The waves do not listen.
The ocean does not care.

It takes and takes and takes,
until I learn to float.

I Have to Prepare My Mind

Not for silence, but for storms.
Not for ease, but for endurance.

To be unbreakable is to know how to bend.
To survive is to understand the language of fire,
to let it burn what must be burned,
to step from the ashes knowing I am not less,
but more.

I sharpen my edges.
I strengthen my roots.
I whisper to the wind:
I will not be moved.

She Taught Me to Better Handle the Ups and Downs by Cultivating Inner Balance Through Acceptance

Acceptance is not surrender.
It is not a white flag or a broken spine.

It is standing in the storm with eyes wide open,
knowing the wind will not stop for my comfort,
knowing the rain will fall whether I like it or not.

It is learning to dance with the chaos.
To sway with the tempests, to let go of what I cannot hold.

She taught me this.
She placed the lesson in my hands,
a weight I was once too weak to carry.

Now, I lift it with ease.

Did I Learn?

I ask myself this as I stand at the water’s edge,
watching the waves roll in, watching them recede.

Did I learn?

I do not know.
Not yet.
Perhaps never.

But I am still here.

And maybe that is enough.

Where Is She Now?

The wind does not answer.
The trees do not tell.

I look for her in the quiet,
in the spaces between heartbeats,
in the echoes of a voice that once steadied my spine.

She is nowhere.
She is everywhere.

Maybe she was never real.
Maybe she was the voice in my head
that I was not yet ready to hear.

And You?

You, who wove illusions into my hair,
who built a palace of promises upon shifting sand

Where are you now?

Do you still believe in bliss?
Do you still whisper of peace like it is a thing to be owned?

I have nothing left to ask of you.
No words to exchange, no lessons to learn.

The storm has passed.
And I stand alone,
unbowed,
unbroken,
untouched by your ghost.

#Poetry #InnerPeace #SelfDiscovery #LifeLessons #PoetryOfChaos #UnravelingTruth #EmbracingWaves #Resilience #ExistentialPoetry