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Quetta Rose Oct 2018
with my wrist slit and my lip bleeding; chapped,
The winter slithering and nipping my skin; kissing my hips.
I’ll write a song with my tears and blood and I’ll let the birds sing it in the morning; well they make the most innocent love,
The crickets will hum it at night and the wind mixed with the autumn leaves will carry it to you.
The night will whisper it in your ear,
The tree will dip it in your fears,
Even in your sleep, you’ll hear.
You’ll hear my sorrow and my wrath at tomorrow,
My scars on my arm will show you that I have a voice that needs to be heard,
My beautiful pain filled tone will be learned.
The birds will sing,
the crickets will hum,
The wind will carry,
The trees will let it be heard by even the deafest ears,
Your dreams will know my pain and the fact that I have nothing to lose and probabilities to gain.
Quetta Rose Oct 2018
He laid in bed staring at a shiny tin,

She let the silver streak red across her skin.

He tried to focus on tomorrow,

Her heavy-heart fill with sorrow.

He thought about how so many months ago he called her a liar,

She thought of the way he looked when she called him a pathetic crier.

He thought about how she was so far,

She studied the heart-shaped scar.

He typed a text but he deleted it,

She tied and hung a noose then hid it.

He tried to remember the curve of her lips,

She brought the ****** blade to her hips.

He played music and wondered if she still had that ferocious fight,

She tried her best to make the physical pain last her for the rest of the night.

He received and read a text from his girl and he tried to sleep but his mind betrayed him,

She cleaned her mess and slithered next to her temporary lover and she looked at her drink filled to the rim.

He cried holding his pillow and wondered if only he had been enough,

She silently cried telling herself that she had to be strong and tough.

He tells himself, 'If he had loved her a little more, maybe she would have stayed',

She tells herself, 'If she let him hold onto her heart, maybe she wouldn't be afraid.'

If only neither of them was afraid to stay...

She loves him and he loves her, in life and death to this day...

It's funny how the universe can work this way...
Quetta Rose Oct 2018
He loved her,
She even met his mother.
But you need to understand that she never learned to love.
She's only seen small memories between her mom and dad.
She was so surrounded by the abuse and lover misuse,
All the men she knew hurt her,
Even her daddy...He hurt her the worst by dying when she needed him most.
His love was nothing any more but lovely memories and a faded ghost.
All she ever did was loth,
and her mother locked herself away and mopped.
Boys took advantage of this,
men figured out how to use her more.
When they were done they only told her she was nothing but a little *****.
So when he showed her that there is such a thing as love,
She felt she needed to run.
What has she done to deserve such a beautiful thing?
Was god playing an awful joke?
Had she finally lost her mind?
Was she running out of time?
Now she only wishes to press rewind.
Maybe if she didn't run she wouldn't be alone.
Maybe he wouldn't have some many insecurities?
Only if she showed him all her insane insecurities.
Maybe she wouldn't have so many impurities
Quetta Rose Sep 2018
I wish I understood the way you feel but I can’t,
I don’t know why you wish me not to rant.
Because if truth be said you were the one that let go,
You pushed me away,
So why is it you’re mad when I touch his heart?
When you know my heart belongs to you now and from the start
I wish we had better luck,
I wish when I needed to that I gave a ****,
I wish you had the guts,
The guts to tell me to never cut.
But now you’re a diamond in the rut.
And I’m in quicksand sinking to the bottom,
It’s our love that we both reap,
But we are in too deep.
Quetta Rose Sep 2018
He looked her in the eyes and saw the trouble,
But he couldn’t have ran into her arms any faster.
“You’re the calm to my storm, my sanctuary.”
He mumbled into her neck,
She laughed and closed her eyes.
“you have me all wrong.” She whispered back at him.
“How’s that?” He asked bringing her neck to his lips.
“Because I am the storm. I bleed and exhale chaos.”
And I never thought it could have been said better.
Quetta Rose Sep 2018
There’s beauty in the rain,
Just like there is beauty in your pain.
There’s a gift about your tears,
And your anger is some what of their worst fears.
There’s an attractiveness in your fierce personality,
People fall in love with you because of your ability.
Your ability to take away all sense of thought and reason,
They call you a witch, but No man cares about the treason,
You’re by far the most magical thing to exist,
I have every reason to resist.
But your kiss,
Is pure bliss.
Quetta Rose Sep 2018
She is like a storm,
Everywhere she goes disaster follows,
But look in her eyes and you’ll see the beauty of it all,
Be the calm to her storm.
Be the rain that’s falls.
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