His heart might be yours but she’ll always be his last stop…
You may be his world but she is his home..
I place this wounded heart on your altar. An offering.
Watch it beat wildly like it always has, this unafraid warrior..
Take it, it’s yours; and do with it as you please…
I pull this noose over my head gladly.. because this one moment, with your sweet voice in my ear and my skin just goose-bumps and heat.. with my heart wild and burning, and my breath unsteady.. this one moment is the heaven I live for. There’s no eternal salvation for me at the end yet I know that I’ll never feel closer to God than when our fingers lock together and our heartbeats sync.
When I’m say I’m getting old, don’t look at the fine lines under my eyes or the grey hairs growing at my temples. That old I can take because it means I’m alive. If you look inside and my soul is hollow, it is shadow and smoke and I can’t find a girl who was ever young.. When I stare at a broken reflection in a perfect mirror and the smile trying to fool me looks so fucking real, that I can’t even count the layers of bullshit I stacked over it all these years.
And I’m no longer scared of pain. Lately it seems pain is scared of me and it’s hiding. I am searching for it like an old friend to fill this emptiness, to give me an old, cold, comforting thing to feel when numbness buries me alive…
And though the head
held high had faced
a thousand winters, and
the steady hand had waved
a thousand swords,
you dared to fight for
what they all worked hard
to destroy.
And your head dropped;
and your hand trembled.
You stood against monsters
who never stopped
rising from the ground;
And you never fell.
But when he traced your veins
with his fingers,
You wept.
For warmth had never touched you before.
I can’t write because I can’t feel. My wildness crushes against the wall that he built and I choke on the words. I can’t write because I can’t see. His fears wrap around my eyes, a thick blidfold; and I wear his smile on my soul like a pair of glasses. I’d be blind if I let it go.
The air grows thick in my lungs when I hear the lock turn behind me. I swallow the sweet lump in my throat as a faint shiver slips down the back of my neck. His first step fills the room with blasting fireworks and I watch him with the corner of my eye, faking composure.
I can’t stop my head from turning to welcome his tender eyes to the place they’ve already carved in my soul. My heart settles into an unknown rhythm, perhaps his own. Perhaps God was playing a wicked game when he made us forbidden, and our hearts beat in sync..
I’m watching his quivering fingers, fast thumbs tapping on the screen.. the soft lines that deepen on his forehead as he frowns, barely, then lifts his eyes to meet mine and they sparkle! A million stars crowded in a soft gaze. He blinks and wipes them away.
I imagine my face glows too, as I feel my heart bloom like a flood of peonies when his lips slowly curl into the faintest smile. Our eyes light the fire and, for a brief moment, it warms the blood in us both.
I look away, count my breaths to calm the storm that rose inside me and let the dark cold settle back on my bones. This flame is forbidden; my eyes close.
Held breath
He prays for me.
And I dream of resting my head on his chest.. trembling fingers burried in my hair, growing still.
Of silencing fearful words with a kiss, softly; a held breath, the shadow of a smile touching his lips.
He prays for me..
And I wonder how the skin smells on the back of his neck. And would a shiver travel down his spine if my lips touched it. Would his eyes close? A held breath..
He prays for me..
To a God that denies us this embrace; that makes him estinguish this blazing fire and leaves the taste of hot ash on my tongue. My nails dig into my palms, my teeth bite hard into my lips and I let go.. a held breath.
Airless
Did you ever wonder why I had to be drunk
every time
you touched me, I shrunk.
You knew, so you’d pour me a glass,
perhaps you thought I was shy
enough to want to black out
before we fuck
me
up.
You pull me into this embrace and whisper
‘Relax, hug me..’
And I wrap my arms around your back
But they’re made of lead and they hang
limp.
I try to breathe but the air
is thick in my lungs like molasses.
So I stand there, airless and stiff in your enormous arms.
I swallow the lump in my throat, full of hatred;
and smile, my teeth so faintly grinding
and think of my treasure.
Oh, how I love him and how I
hate myself
because the pain that I swallow and hold
on the end of my fingers,
it falls on his hair and his fragile skin,
it sets on his long dark lashes when his eyes grow big
and he wonders why
Mummy is sad again
Mummy is angry again.
Why she never cries…..
I don’t know if I chose you, or I was destined yours;
I do know I wasn’t made out of your rib like Eve of Adam’s; I couldn’t build myself in you as sin in a temptation. I wasn’t light within your temple, I had no altar in your flesh.
Perhaps you pulled me from a dream that wept unnoticed on your pillow, and I slipped gently to your lips so you could build me from a whisper; or carve me out of darkness as an eternal faith.
Your love, I don’t know what it was. But mine – a flood of flowers; which crowded in my flesh to bloom my bones into a spring. And from the wounds of my ripped wings flew insects, discarding my body like a sinful angel.
In my mortal eyes you were god’s offspring. But in your scornful love was raging fire, born from the candles of a self, which took us both to hell… and heaven.
And everytime you held me I felt the wings between us, the rib I wasn’t made of piercing through my skin. My eyelids draped over my bare flesh, when we made love like beasts to hide our strangeness.
And silent like two stones, one burried in the other, we drank eternity with hollow mouths; but failed to find each other in the secrets of stolen moments of the past.
But now I know, though it’s too late, that the eternity you gave me was damnation. I ripped my angel wings each time your love dressed me in dreams of insects and bloomed me into spring.
You were my last bet. I gambled the last piece of my soul on a losing game, convinced I would lose yet so drunk with its charm.
When the house took my last chip and saw what it was made of, they sighed for me; they gave me a room on the highest floor so that I may jump to my peace.
