Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
Velvet ropes reiteratedly gave us hope and love.
Velvet ropes made us believe magic was real.
That rope that kept us bound by doggedness is velvet.
The exuberance in our lives is prevented.
Velvet ropes created an askew and bittersweet love.
Love that we will never understand.
Love that makes you voracious for more.
You become thirsty for cascading passion.
The velevet ropes spawns an eternal flame of abundance, exquisiteness and tenderness to the core.
What is this velvet rope that creates a loving, hopeful and prodigious man?
A man who is carefree and only kindheartedly based.
We have looked in all the wrong places.
For the velvet ropes are in the one place you failed to look...
Your own heart.
You are compromised with a great gift.
Turning your back and forming a blind eye to it by looking elsewhere made you lurk further.
Although you misguided yourself, count on the velvet ropes to bring you home...
Today..........
Tomorrow...
Forever........
Its never a thing.
Its never just something.
It makes you cry endlessly.
When you think you are timeless, you become ephemeral.
Every collection of agony, anguish and afflication become a harrowing hole.
A bleeding heart is constructed from the dew of a beautiful nightmare.
Its miraculous.
Its completely beautiful.
The love he gives me is absolutely timeless.
He gives me pieces of his heart to complete mine.
This love that  is delicate and exquisite.
Our boundless love and devotion is immortal.
A burning flame of eternal love.
I love waves.
I can touch them but I can't catch them.
Maybe that's why I love them, they are so touchable but so unreachable at the same time.
It's a crazy feeling you get when you love something like that,
something that's not concrete but it's not abstract,
something you can point to but you can't actually see.
I search for you in the late nights
at the bottom of the bottle.
I look for you in the embers striving to burn
at the end of a dying cigarette.
I ache for you in the arms of a stranger,
a man with different proportions,
a deeper voice, a rougher face.

I’m searching for you in all the places
you swore you’d never be
just like you swore you’d never leave.
But the pale hands caressing your satin skin,
pale hands that weren’t mine
burn in my mind and
I wonder how I’ll ever find you in the places
you swore you’d never be
just like you lost me,
when you swore you’d never leave.
 Nov 2014 Amanda Araujo
Emma
If my daughter ever comes to me
and asks me if I think she is pretty
I will say NO
You are so much more than pretty
you are beautiful
If my daughter ever comes to me
with tears stains on her face
telling me her heart's been broken
by the boy she thought was the one
even though she may only be 14, or 16, or 21
I will not ask who it was
I will simply hold her until the pain stops
whether it be minutes or hours
or even days
and buy her some chocolate, of course
If my daughter ever comes to me
and shows me the scars on her wrists
and her legs
and her sides
I will not look away horrified
I will simply show her
how a little bit of time
and a little bit of cream
can heal all wounds
even those of the heart
If my daughter ever comes to me
and shows me her sharp hip bones jutting out
and her soft ribcage peeking out
I will not call her crazy or any awful name
I will simply hold her soft enough
that her bones may not break
and walk her along the
all too familiar path to recovery
If my daughter ever comes to me
bleeding and bruised
because he didn't know
what no meant
I will not make her feel *****
I will not make her feel worthless
I will not ask why she didn't stop him
I will simply calm her victimized heart
and show her the many ways to ****
a man or a woman
if they ever touch her without her consent again
I will not judge her
for the many nights she may fall asleep crying
Instead I will prepare her a cup of tea,
buy her some inspirational movies,
write her some poems
and give her some books
Because I know broken souls
cannot be fixed over-night
I will let her buy dresses
that make her feel beautiful
and will not laugh at her
if she chooses to wear them with tennis shoes
I will let her stay home from school
every once in a while
even if I know she is faking it
because I know we all need a break sometimes
and I know that school isn't the only place
you can learn valuable life lessons
If my daughter ever comes to me
with a small child in her arms
one whom was not exactly planned
one whom has no father
I will step in and be that father
I will be her help

But most importantly
If my daughter EVER comes to me
and confesses her mental illness
I will not doubt her
I will not mock her
I will simply smile at her
and assure her she is not alone
and will get the means for help
For I never want her to know
what lonely tastes like
Perfection is in imperfection.
Your scars tell a story.
A story of struggles.
A story of life.
A story of strength.
These lines you write,
a blade as a pen,
have meaning.
They are dangerous,
but so are words.
Share with me what you share with your wrists.
Share your worries.
Your fears.
Your anger.
Your love.
Some secrets deserve to be shared
They tell you there's a light at the end of the road
They tell you there's a life for all those they've told

They told me I'd be alright, all I had to do was breathe
But I've been breathing since the day I was born
And I can tell you it hasn't kept me "fine"

They tell you I'm crazy,
They tell you I'm lazy,
but what they don't tell you is how I struggle to get out of bed
what they don't tell you is how close to death I've been
what they don't tell you is how strong I am.

They told me it happens all the time,
they told me soon the sun will shine
they told me many things that were all lies.
What they didn't tell me was that I was crazy,
that I was lazy,
Because what they told me was I would be fine.

But all they've done is make me crazy,
make me mad and desperate for relief from shame
shame that I shouldn't have for needing help
shame that I shouldn't have for bleeding out
shame that I shouldn't have for opening up
but it is a shame that I bear
because they told you I was crazy
and they told you I was shady.

I'm just me. And I'm having trouble being that today.
So please don't tell me that I'm crazy,
because I'm actually quite nice
I'm actually quite fun.
If you'd bothered to get to know me
you would have known all this stuff.
But you didn't.
Because you believed them when they told you I was crazy.
Next page