“I used to love too.”
My words leave cuts
On your already dead body
In my ****** arms.

The rubble of your bones
And the destruction of your
Lovely face
Leave cuts on my dead body.

The failure(s)
is/are on my part.

It’s all
my fault.

A touch of my finger
Leaves nothing but nothing
behind.

A breath from my lips
Kills and rots all life
That it reaches.

A shiver on my spine
Is the electric chair for
All that is loved.

A tear from my head
Floods cities storms worlds
And all I can do is cry.

As you bleed out on the floor
You flood my heart with your
Sweet, sweet blood.

And I enjoy every last bit
As you fade.
As I fade.

And I cry.

True love’s kiss
is the spindle on the spinning wheel.

I used to love too.

“We better just stop right now.”

the slogan of betrayal woven into a warning sign

but we are always too late to see it

as we crash past the red lights into the traffic of time

where mistakes cannot be rectified and problems cannot be solved

as the warning sign gets off one stop earlier than it should

and you are left on a one-way trip to nowhere

as you watch the stop sign crash into the front of the

the threads of time are not
ours to keep, nor cut nor pull
but we can do our best to
hold on to whatever string we
have, even if it’s our noose

the sands of destiny are not
ours to feel, nor touch nor soak
but we can do our best to
flip the hourglass over when
the golden liquid nearly falls

the edges of space are not
ours to bend, nor mould nor shape
but we can do our best
to smoothen out the folds
when the corners begin to curl

we cannot control everything
but what we can we must.

the beads of memories
strung onto the lines of time
are ours to keep, cut and pull
and we must collect them
no matter shiny or dull

the water of truth hidden deep
within the rivulets of destiny
is ours to feel, touch and soak,
and find our true fate within
the droplets of realisation

the ink of reality smudged onto
the aged papyrus of space
is ours to bend, mould and shape
and we have all the power
to write our own stories

finding freedom in boundaries is true release

when your dreams
fall
from the sky and die
don’t blame yourself

when your hopes
bleed
out on the floor in front of you
don’t cry

when the lightbulb
fuses
and everything goes dark
it’s not your fault

It’s theirs.

They are the ones that
tug at your laces
claiming to tie them
when they really are
pulling them out
and pulling you down.

They are the ones that
appear like guardian angels
too good to be true
truly too good
then the shaft of their spear
is already through your heart.

They are the ones that
welcome themselves into
your home
and crush the lights with
their words.

They are the ones that
enter your mirrors
and claim to be you.

Although if you see yourself
then please

switch the lights back on.

they look at it like x marks the spot
in a cradle of apprehension they are caught
in a chrysalis of fear and self-fulfilling prophecies
disturbed sleep descends like cold blankets on colder memories

they fiddle with the dirt with their calloused toes
an imprint of hope on the sands with their soles
the fleeting winds chide them with gales in the night of day
once a broken mind, a broken heart you’ll stay

turned head twisted neck on the floor broken back
from the burdens of many, their condolences in a sack
tugged along for many years to come,
a mission long lost, aimless as the sun
travelled paths leave marks like many stains
of fights long lost and won, of broken limbs and pain
weathered faces carved into fallen pebbles chipped off a boulder
made for something big, something more, just resting on your shoulders

you’d said I’d broken your heart
said it was all my fault
said it was because of me

you flaunt the scars on your heart
blaming me for the crosses and trails of blue and black

telling me how irresponsible I am while your hand fumbles in my pocket for my heart while you’re just reaching for my wallet

squeezing your arteries and veins
pouring it all in a wine cup
sipping it in front of everyone
and it’s my fault that you’re a vineyard

putting your legs on the table
boasting about the abrasions on your knees
bragging about the finger marks around your neck
and it’s my fault that you live in a brothel

swaggering about in your “cheap” designer nightgown
gloating about your lipstick that isn’t waterproof
and it’s my fault you’re not a trending makeup tutorial vlogger

you can go on and on
but why should I listen

when you were the one who juiced the life out of my heart made me kneel before you choked me till my neck caved in turned me into a loveless prune painted my face red with your blood

how can you say all that
when you’re really the murderer here

behind the black days and torture and pain,
two friends hold hands as they walk in the rain.
they are invisible to those who see, and don’t look,
as they watch the humans and the toil they took.

they feel emotional vampires brush past their skin,
looking for love and only finding sin.
they count the days long past and fallen,
wasted on skipped turns and hearts already broken

they are stepped on and over in raging mobs
that only exist to scream and complain and sob
about their wings that won’t let them fly
while those that try can only cry

they lie on thrones of thorns and roses
and watch as humans pluck and pose
they look away as they get dragged back down
they walk away as their smiles turn to frowns

they hold their noses as charred skin fills the air
watch as they tie themselves to electric chairs
laying their hands on the ones that survive
they wonder how the humans ever thrived

they smile sadly at the art piece on the floor
they had hoped that humans could be more
they finally leave their hopes to fall
maybe next time they’ll respond to their call

life and death walk hand in hand
looking at the vast grey land
then they merge in the shadows that run
finally showing their true form as one

from the shadows a crown of thistles and thorns
clothes sewn from all the halos and horns
a quiet voice echoes in the silent morning
maybe the curse was always a blessing