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210 · Feb 2021
Father
Joanne Monroe Feb 2021
Father, can you feel your heart beat, beat, beat. Can you feel how it wants to leave it's cage and be free, free, free.

Father, can you feel the newly fresh wounds sprouting from your lips every time you kiss a woman, did you know it is a punishment for what you did?

Father, do you still believe the lies that you told her? An epic poem which you wrote on her waistline. Did you know that you hurt her?

Father, are you there? I can't seem to hear the tumultuous symphony your heart makes when you're scared, father? Did you found the courage to take flight? Father... Please come back.
- The Poet A
204 · Feb 2021
Dandelion
Joanne Monroe Feb 2021
I'm a drifting dandelion on the edge of a riverbed. There's a cavernous hole  inside me I wish to fill up  to the brim with my tears till it overflows and spills on the marble floor. There's  noose tightening around my heart and with the blood I'll paint a broken canvas  and on my knees I'll paint a portrait of my pain as a reminder of my dismal existence, I will crown myself with thorns and call myself the Queen of death because it is all that I crave. Then plunge me under the invisible sea, the sea my remaining soul.

I'm a reminder of broken goddesses who live in pyramids of golden sands, and I'm slipping through their hands to an endless void where the pain can't find me and my only companions are the demons inside of me.

I'm hurting everywhere, everywhere, everywhere and I don't know how to stop the breathing in my lungs and the blood flowing to my heart. I want to carve  my heart out and squeeze it until it breaks and I'm dead on the floor. Death never felt so close. I feel myself slipping and I can't hold on because the ones who told me they'll hold me always let me go.

- The Poet A.

— The End —