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.
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
Why must I pretend?
Burning eyes…bleed toxic rains.
Dissolving the will.
Photo by: https://lorency.deviantart.com/art/Eye-of-FIRE-89773725
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
Emily, it’s funny how you made your way into the ruins of my mind. Today, you must’ve squeezed your way through the cracks in the window. Damn. I need to get those fixed. I thought my days were over thinking about you, but I was wrong. Father Time mended these scars years ago… guess Mother Nature has other plans. This time, the messenger was a light breeze, carrying the sweet scent of chocolate. You filled my home once again, silencing the sounds of a jackhammer destroying the blacktop. While I was glad that you always made us feel like the only two people in the world, this time I dread the thought of you. And listening to the road shatter, would’ve been much better than choking on a resuscitating memory, that’s crushing my chest and steeling my breath. The cold modest breeze, a medium that’s dusting off the ruins of a bitter love, sending a refrigerated chill into your chocolate paradise.
Remembering the first time we met is standing right in front of me, except you’re not smiling. You weren’t afraid of anyone, no matter what face they’re wearing. That day, I happened to throw on my grumpy old man face, that I borrowed from my father. But…Nooo, that didn’t stop you from sitting down right next to me. Every day we had class, and without fail, you’d say hello. And that smell. I can never forget that smell. I swore you bathed in chocolate. Once you were settled in your seat, the first thing you did was pull out a big bag of Hershey Kisses and asked if I wanted any. Eventually, after four weeks, I gave in. I’m a sucker for sweet things.
Why do we go back to the first day we ever met someone special, and forget about all the misery that follows? I think you were supposed to teach me how to be a better person. How cliché! But what I’ve learned, was something completely different. I never thought I’d gag at the smell of chocolate, and when I look back, our timeline was based on two chocolate aromas. Milk chocolate was a reminder of our best times, and then somewhere along the line, it turned bitter dark. And now, when I walk down the candy aisle, I see the kisses, but their words have changed. And the last words I hear, is spoken through a Hershey Kiss. Only this time, it’s not blowing me one, it’s telling me to kiss something.
Cold chill? Nature’s dream…
A faceless end that bend’s time.
The breeze waits to kiss.
Photo by: http://flickrhivemind.net/Tags/northyorkshire/Interehosting
Breathe in the gallows.
Stairs rotted with innocence.
Mossy steps of time.
Photo by: http://www.myproroofing.com/blog/roofing/replace-rotted-siding/