When the Empath Feels

There are some places I cannot visit for they remind me of you. They hold your energy in the room like thick clouds of cigarette smoke. My lungs can’t take it in. I choke.

 Some people let off an energy
like some places hold onto memories.
Memories are energy.
Feelings and emotions are energy.
They permeate faces
songs
movies...
 
There are some places
I cannot visit
for they remind me of you.
They hold your energy in the room
like thick clouds of cigarette smoke.
My lungs can’t take it in.
I choke.
 
There are some faces
I can’t see, really.
They hold the memories of the past.
What was done.
How it hurt me.
Like recurring nightmares.
Like bad cheese
stuck in the back of a refrigerator.
It smells and nauseates me.
 
It’s all there, you know.
The whole story.  
In every line, every wrinkle.
In their laughter.
In their sorrow.
There’s all this pain.
Heartache.
The heart beats still
but it is never whole
again.
 
Sometimes I just know things
I wish I didn’t know.
There are just some life experiences
I wish I wasn’t shown
that never happened to my soul.
 
Sometimes I wish the feelings I feel
were only my own.
And not hers, or yours,
and I could leave this cruel dark world
and just be alone.
 
I’m tired of the games.
The lies, betrayals, personal rejections
the bed stains, the messes
left on carpets that need to be replaced.
The revenge plots, the scores,
the getting even, the stomach knots.
The loose women and the loose lips,
the loose feelings, and the hands
that lose everything
and their grip.
 
I hear and feel it all.
I hear them talk.
It hurts.
 
Make it go away
so I can breathe again.
 
Wishing
one day
I was no longer
breathing
feeling
or thinking
and taking
all of it in.
 

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