Scarring Eyes

There wasn’t a time when I was gone, where you didn’t cross my mind. The strength of our love was tied to regret and misery, each time I left. It’s the thorn of the ghost. A reminder of consequences, that attracts and repels the nature of life. It’s a burden that scars the eyes. Open for the world to see. And… I wore it with honor, as it pressed heavy on the back of fatigue, that’s carried between peace and war. As time crept, torturing the instinct of purpose. The slash of your hand wave’s goodbye, cresting the Atlantic, and our thoughts carve a steel blade that severs the heart’s reality. Turning the essence of closeness into strangers. Ripped away by ideals, our oneness splits the road of eternity into questions that gnaw on the ear of despair. We fell in love, and with that descent…dependent.

Overlooking Sacredness

Nothing makes a person think about the truth until the crosshairs scan your body. An invasive species of thought, a termite, searching for that break in the fearlessness. Underneath their forced smiles of fear, is a history of restraint. Tyrants rule with fear. A message of false hope. A green promise that lines his pockets with black gold. Building his multiple, multi-million-dollar mansions along the paths of religious origins. His narcissistic view was one of grandeur, while his message was written clear above the hilltops, overlooking the sacredness of religion.

Confession on a Page

Wet blood turns dry, pouring out from my pitcher
Destined to speak, to the leaves… A confession.
Staining the paper with years of submissions
Love, hate, anger, rage;
From top to bottom, in front of a stage.
A symbol, a picture, or just there to stray.

Sending chills down the back of this leathery spine.
What’s mine is yours, throughout this short time.
Sharing, creating, penetrating…then strikes.
The rings around Rosey, and to the trees that give life.
Sacrificing her breath, without any choice.
To give this man’s words, his humbling voice.

 

photo: https://www.pinterest.com/juttabryant/beautiful-books/

Kiera’s Love

The last time Kiera felt true love, was years ago. Her relentless battle with the ghost of her former lover encircles her mind. Eric digs his hypodermic claws in between her thoughts of happiness. The memory of happy times gets lost, hidden behind the poison of his undying love. Kiera closes her dark blue eyes and dreams of what life would be like without the lingering giant trampling around her head. Maybe, the soft kiss of the sun will warm her heart again. Or a whisper of truth that broke into pieces will find their way back together. Instead, she’s a fleshy sheath of a toxic dagger that was jammed in her back. She heard the truth that was spoken with her very lips and still…she’s blinded by his words, as the worthlessness brick turns in in her gut. A love tethered by a bungee cord, weighing down all the possibilities of happiness.

Eric lays quietly, slowly drowning her in his own despair, and the more she struggles to find the truth, the more he’s there to welcome in his shame. Branding it in the depth of her slow beating heart. Kiera’s tears fall down her shattered face, 35-years-old, alone. Every night she prays for the pain to end, and at the end of her prayers. She finds true suffering. Suffering that bounds her to the jagged earth from those fallen dreams. Kiera’s lost, the broken words of a man, crack the whip on her innocence back. Steeling the true meaning of love, twisting them into Eric’s selfish power. She was looking forward to giving the world everything she has to offer. Now, she’s willing to take what she can get.

photo by: https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=p4HRqLX2cMY

Dissolve

Dissolve

Why must I pretend?
Burning eyes…bleed toxic rains.
Dissolving the will.

 

Photo by: https://lorency.deviantart.com/art/Eye-of-FIRE-89773725

Will’s

Will’s

Power ceases the boy by the arm.
Grabbing and ripping him down.
Stretching… Will’s of men.

 

Photo by: https://www.shutterstock.com/search/claws+ripping
Thank you.