The presence of your bruises
Left lovingly on my skin
So sweet, **** and surreptitious

The tears in my eyes
I make no attempt to hide
As mascara streams,
Caressing my rosey cheeks.

I love how you make love to me
when all is stripped down bare
I love how you still love me
when I'm in the depths  of sheer despair

You Dissolve,
Diminish,
Made my world dissipate.
Each piece of me breaking
As my heart fills with hate.

I still wear your T-shirt to bed.
I know I shouldn’t but i do.
I should wear my own pyjamas instead
But they just don’t feel like you

The section i find most difficult to articulate
Whilst of minimum complexity,
Sparking such innate debate.

Scorning my own persona’s voided,
True personality remaining avoided.

Each multifaceted side of mine plenty,
Evoking analysis of my true identity.

I am everybody yet nobody,
I am everything yet nothing.

Constant contemplation of reality
(though part of my normality)
Evoking analysis of my true identity.

I envision each person i encounter,
-though see the tormented oh so clear.
Each time drawn into to the tempest like vortex,
Of another quite so mutually complex.

I am everybody yet nobody,
I am everything yet nothing.

Waves crash
A windswept ocean
As the sun begins to warm my soul

Looking yonder
Into the endless vast
On this beautiful evening stroll

Crystal water
oh so clear,
Just makes me wish that you were here

Golden beach
Each grain of sand
Just makes me want to hold your hand

Waves that crash
In deep blue sea
Just makes me wish you were here with me

Hotel room
Big empty bed
Just makes me wish that’s where you were lay

Sunshine bright
Sky so blue
Just reminds me how much I miss you.

If love is pain and pain is pleasure,
Then these bruises she shall  use as,
your affection measure.

To visualise love,
To feel your feelings,
To sense it as her wounds are healing.

Seeing, hearing,
Following Your  scent,
To know just what it represents.

She’ll take the leap,
relinquish control
As further she delves down your rabbit hole.

Enjoy the journey
but were’s the destination?
Your marks, your love? The correlation?!!

Some want to hurt,
some want to bleed.
To watch the inner anguish freed.

A world, a life,
A religious order?
His canes the relics to to this mental disorder.

See external pain,
is internal anaesthetic,
His marks she believes to be truly stigmatic.