You know I like you,
You brush it off like nothing.
I am here hoping.

These bruises don't change anything.
So why do you continue to  hurt*  me?

you presented yourself
like an open book to me,
shedding all your celibacy.
you vitiated me with the
idea of cognizing you.
I am beyond the hope
of quenching my soul.
  The more I know you, 
 the more I crave for you.
You are a book,  
and I am reading you
between and beyond
the lines

she was a marionette of the echoes
of her past
corrupting her present.
She was fluctuating betwixt
the anguish of the antecedent and
invariable  sanctity.
She was apostle of the present
but
She worshipped her past

my ink was too bleak to write.
my soul was too tired to fight.
thoughts commixed with my sense.
too shattered to take a stance.
screaming  voice couldn't be heard.
a lone trip down the road.
fight with the one that consumed.
the reasons that amused.
it was all me, me in a war.
all that remained was A Beautiful Scar*.