In the beginning, we bartered hearts like merchants at a bazaar,
each of us donning silver smiles and guarded eyes,
holding a currency of whispers and half-truths,
our souls up for auction, a tangled web of worth.
I've always been a collector of broken things,
an archivist of fractured dreams,
a believer in the beauty of the mended,
but this time, I am the jagged porcelain,
cradled in your hands, asking to be whole.
You wove love into me like a tapestry,
threaded through my aching seams,
you took my tattered edges, stitched them tenderly,
and I could almost believe I am deserving,
though I wear this love like borrowed garments,
a thrift store treasure, waiting to be claimed.
Oh, how we danced in the shadows of our doubts,
with the moon as our witness, we pirouetted,
brushed fingertips like shooting stars,
my heart a hummingbird, in the cage of my chest.
I have held shame like a secret lover,
nestled in the crook of my neck, a serpent's breath,
it whispered in my ear, "you're not enough,
you're a counterfeit soul, a fool's gold,
a price too steep, a debt too deep."
I've chased oblivion, doused in liquid fire,
a self-destructive waltz, a frenzied masquerade,
but you, you held me close, a lighthouse in the storm,
your love, a compass guiding me to shores unseen.
Together, we excavated the depths of my despair,
traveled through the catacombs of my heart,
our love a language, a dialect of healing,
a lexicon of scars and whispered apologies.
I have been a doubter, a skeptic of my worth,
but you taught me to seek the gold within my veins,
to peel back the layers of rust and fear,
to find the precious, the hidden, the unseen.
And now, we stand at the edge of a precipice,
our love a fragile bridge, swaying in the breeze,
I tremble, unsure, a hesitant traveler,
but you, you hold my hand, and together, we leap.
In this uncharted landscape, we forge our destiny,
a mosaic of laughter and tears, a tapestry of dreams,
our love, a currency worth more than silver or gold,
for we are the treasure, the priceless, the untold.
Apr 8, 2023
Apr 8, 2023 at 11:15 PM UTC
I strive to be the best lover I can be,
Not to say I am without faults,
Forgiveness flows through my blood,
Just don't take advantage of this.
Love blinds when it is true,
Over and over again,
Various personalities, lives collide,
Every wound from the ones before vanish.
Love that dies was never there, to begin with,
One has to wonder why it begins,
You can give your heart to one, or to thousands,
Although love is just a game of luck in the end,
Losing is not for those who cannot afford to play.
Oct 14, 2018
Oct 14, 2018 at 8:12 AM UTC
my heart,
i've trained it, you taught me how,
a heart that doesn't love, cannot break.
i'm content this way,
the sickest part of this,
i have never and could never ***** a foul phrase about you,
when i stepped up into your vehicle that night,
i didn't know I was looking death in the eyes,
the next months would be the greatest of my vitality.
i wish i would have cherished them more than i did.
i'm saddened you blinded me with love,
when in reality you played the angel of death,
carrying me to my definitive grave.
i hope he makes you feel the love i couldn't,
but, i will shout on the hillside til i crumble,
you gifted me the love i desired.
even if that means i die young,
i understand what most will never.
if i could i'd cut the loyalty straight out of my chest,
because I know my love for you isn't going anywhere
**** time, pills or people who try to pull it out of me,
you've buried me emotionally, when i physically leave,
i have one last plea,
wake me when you come to heaven.
for that's the only desire that
Apr 3, 2018
Apr 3, 2018 at 8:39 PM UTC
hushed weeping ignored every time we scroll through our feeds.
broken souls lay in despair debating whether to keep breathing.
cries for help are screaming through tweets, photos, and posts.
only to go ignored, or sometimes even mocked.
for those fortunate enough to be pretty or extroverted
while you are surrounded by whom you call "friends."
taking pictures with these cute faces who will go home
only to talk about how ugly what you were wearing was.
for those who were alone over the holidays.
know this, you are not the only human alone.
the last three birthdays, Christmases, and NYE celebrations
have been solitary for me. it hurts. i cry. dark thoughts cloud me
there isn't anything anyone can say to make the feelings go.
extreme loneliness is when you don't desire to be alone.
don't let their smiles break your heart more.
don't allow the facade of their "friend's" fool you.
anyone can gather people and take an Instagram pic.
i want you to stay healthy, those people will be alone too.
if nothing else, i am always available to listen.
for i am part of the forgotten ones.
don't let that big heart that is breaking self-destruct.
Jan 1, 2018
Jan 1, 2018 at 2:24 AM UTC
my heart is so tired
I'm losing my voice
and bleeding out
kindness is a target for evil
disheartening doesn't begin to define this ache in my chest
maybe this is how it felt when they drove the nails into Jesus's hands
the only things that keep me breathing
are full of toxins
unfortunately, there are no warning signs of toxins that provide the fix I seek.
my manifesto is to mean what I say
do what I promise
more importantly it is to love.
I've learned that love is the ultimate sacrifice.
this world needs those of us who feel deeply and communicate effectively.
a "friend" doesn't cut ties over something petty
a lover doesn't leave you because something is alleged to be true.
as a feeler, this will make sense to you.
if you are not comprehending this or not feeling a tug in your chest, go home, lay down and think about times in your life when you felt overlooked. really go back to that moment and feel it.
when you feel it, now know that other person is feeling that because of your actions.
love & art 1991,
henk holveck
Dec 5, 2017
Dec 5, 2017 at 10:13 AM UTC
Greed, gluttony, indulgence, selfishness.
These are all characteristics I've viewed
From a man who chose such a proclaimed selfless profession.
Amusing how the less fortunate prey on the wallets thicker than theirs.
There is a significant difference between intentional wronging
And misguided, assumptions that only souls that are led astray make
The purpose of this text is a public service announcement,
some may call it art; only the creator truly knows it's meaning.
Mom's in the wild will protect their progeny to the death, I'll leave it at that.
It began in spoken word. Your fear carried on to strings of letters that could only flow through a brain sunken in liquid toxicity.
Don't believe everything you hear, don't dismiss it either.
Play your pawn carefully sir, as your next movement
Very well could be checkmate.
I care about society until someone I know crosses me,
I have honored you by not interrupting your rendezvous. Taking advantage of people is your game.
You prey on those who are too naive to type six letters following a name into a search box.
Fortunately, your cadaverous will forever rot.
While the tempter, sits in delight holding onto a smile so menacing. You have only seen it portrayed by Mr. Nicholsan.
Regard of the Crest of the house would have prevented your sad demise.
As there are no do-overs when you work with Satan, at least you fell for his entrapment, and no one will be wounded by your passive lies again.
we wish you eternal damnation,
the m.H.d.
Oct 7, 2016
Oct 7, 2016 at 2:09 AM UTC
the thoughts never go
i realize you are unavailable,
not because you are with someone
your lack of remorse hurts.
i don't desire to stroke your ego
so i merely keep it concealed;
although every time i visit you,
the caterpillars in my stomach develop wings.
your intoxicating chorus
eases my anxious mind;
your tender kiss
absorbed directly into my veins…
but i know i am not the
one who helps you fall asleep,
for i am a man who writes
about heartbroken cries
we as men don't want to hear that ****
for intimacy and emotional exposure is dangerous
and with so much at stake
why would you make your emotional sentiments so public
because of you
you, you, you, you, you
i obviously cannot tell you
so if someone resonates with me
i can feel love from someone, somewhere.
Sep 19, 2016
Sep 19, 2016 at 7:25 AM UTC
the words that flow from my soul
to my veins and out through my fingertips,
to most are obstructed by either confusion, misunderstanding
or whatever other baggage they carry that won't let my abstract thoughts
penetrate their unfortunate heavy epicenter.
never have my expressions been powerful enough to break them,
i met you, spent half a day with you, and you left,
that was it, gone, just like that,
1,000's of miles away.
but however, whatever ill-fated scenario that was,
we speak to each others soul, lover we don't even have the same native tongue,
yet you understand my core better than any other that has ever entered my leading light.
i'm taken back to a child-like state,
i feel scared, forlorn.
i'm afraid just like an absent father,
you will provide me with certainty that it will happen.
sweetheart, i hate to break this to you but,
age doesn't pause for life, love or the desire to pursue you
as scary as it may be, if what is spoken to me is true
that dive, as deep, as dark as it may be, know i am writing to you from the depths.
i vow, i won't let you drown. please, babe, dive in,
my skin is only withering without you.
love & art, 1991
henk holveck
Jul 2, 2016
Jul 2, 2016 at 10:00 PM UTC
my soul is fragile. it slips into impending doom at the mere though you may be awake thinking about another. while i am stuck here like a cancer that cannot escape remission, your name plays through my head, it feels as though my eyes have become the lens that took this precious photo of you.
some may think this photo is nothing but a #selfie, unbeknownst to them, my fragile graceful hands pushed a button, which sent a message to you. the message you heard was the snap of a shutter, the message i tried to send through it was; no matter what you are doing, you are ******* beautiful.
in all the art i create, i try to procure the observers attention, i want them to take in, breathe and feel all the beauty around them. whether it is a girl in her early twenties who doesn’t know she’s beautiful, to a boy who feels as though he cannot be beautiful. i hate that line. if you re-read that line, it just doesn’t feel appropriate even as the writer of that line, because society has conditioned us into a mold.
well, wake up because nature isn’t taught that, just go look at the unique patterns of melting icicles during the afternoon of a mid-winter storm.
Jun 28, 2016
Jun 28, 2016 at 11:26 AM UTC
my heart.
feels weighed down.
it has been carved out
the moment I feel safe.
you leave me
with the key I presumed
you would handle with care
the locksmith closed down.
luckily, I had a couple of spares
but, they are hidden away,
I thought I hid them well,
I spared them for safety.
I knew that they could not be copied,
they couldn't be recklessly handed out,
I'd done that too much,
had so much stolen from me overnight.
I don't think my life would bear another break in
I have one left and I've hidden it so well,
I don't even know where it is anymore.
Which I think in the end might be a good thing.
The person who claims that key will naturally know how to obtain it, even if I don't.
Considering they are the only one with the last copy.
Jun 19, 2016
Jun 19, 2016 at 5:16 AM UTC