Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
Olivia Ventura Mar 2018
I’d rather remain an enigma to him.
It’s easier knowing he won’t know my grim
Starvation is not a polite conversation
Damnation is not but a plight confirmation

I’d rather remain an enigma to him.
Let my lip quiver as I try to be prim.
My eyelash vaporizes tears into smoke.
My lipstick a match for fires to stoke.

I’d rather remain an enigma to him.
Let his questions fill him up to the brim.
He would laugh if I told him cause of my pain
I want a connection free of disdain

I’d rather remain an enigma to him.
Not that I don’t think he’d handle the dim.
I just think it’s better to separate it all
After all, he’s the one who caused me to fall

So yes... I’d rather remain a tortured
Yet contained
Beautiful enigma
Olivia Ventura Mar 2018
We spit in the mud and made clay,
And we molded ourselves as we saw us.
I saw our creation as the near future,
You only saw the past.
I saw our creation as my biggest desire,
You saw something you didn’t believe in.

One month later and I walk a dirt path,
And it reminds me of our clay.
I don’t sculpt much nowadays,
Maybe I was never meant to.
But along the path I spotted someone walking

I smiled, kept walking, and took a breath.

Breathing felt better once I knew it wasn’t clay; it was just mud.
Olivia Ventura Mar 2018
Autumn's tears have watered down the pride
Winter's bite has scarred the dogwood trees
Spring's laughter has revived the wilted flowers
Summer's kiss has numbed the boastful lips
Olivia Ventura Mar 2018
Black umbrellas crowd and cover
crying family and broken lovers
they gather to mourn their dearly departed
they gather to finish what merely was started

"He was brave and he knew how to care"
"He listened to me, he was always there"
a gap between life and love and death
has stolen a bit of everyone's breath

Don't cry for him, he's doing well
everyone knows he is not in hell
But still the heartsick mourners cry
"Why God Why was it him and not I?"
Olivia Ventura Feb 2018
My leg is a ****** to steel
But the craving is something too real
I’ll grip the blade in hand
So suffering will be my brand

The cold edge against my soft skin
Calls out to something dark within
The inexplicable need to cut
As my lip quivers and my eyes shut

My leg is no longer a ****** to steel
It stings but I truly get the appeal
Expressing the intensity
When heartstrings pull with tenacity

I wrap the wound in fabric lies
And fasten it with red stained ties
And no one will see the shame
Because they won’t know what to blame
Olivia Ventura Jan 2018
my heart is all but beating today,
my lips are parted, cold, and numb.
my person scattered, now a scarlet array.
my love confused, utterly dumb.

what a life I wanted to share with you.
Dear God I pray it was not in vain.
such a life I dreamt might've never come true,
now my crimson tears stream out of these veins.

The eternal smell of alfalfa and cover
greets me with a sweet hello.
forgive me, my love, now our future is over.
My shadow will tempt you but you must say no.

Say no if it asks you to keep me company,
For I know your fate is not so bleak.
if you miss me, just visit my willow tree,
and forgive me, my love, that I was weak.

The Reaper's siren, I always repressed.
a wreath of baby's breath is my new halo.
my hands lay crossed above my breast.
revolver taken away along with the blood from cephalo-

Ethereal light transfixed on her figure.
this melancholy serene where life and death meet.
The name, Evangeline, carved of Ligure
her wedding veil now her winding sheet.
Olivia Ventura Jan 2018
I lost my best friend
I lost my companion
I’m bruised and I’m beat
But I’ll get back on my feet

Love,

The closure I finally have
Next page