Self Hatred consumes me
like a dragon chomping off the head of an innocent knight
What did the knight ever do to deserve this
All he did was try to do the right thing

And for this he was punished

Crushed flowers are beautiful,
dried, pressed
not useful but certainly nice to look at
My sister affectionately called me a 'delicate little flower' one of the many times you made me break down, crushed from false accusation
until i eventually dried up
pressed myself until the pain no longer hurt.
I wondered why i had become such a fragile thing
shouldn't heartbreak build you up, a learning experience rather than reducing you to a few petals and a stem.
i feel more like a tree
green and great during the warm summer months
unaware of the freezing winter winds that will blow away all my protective leaves. barren. cold.
i hope someday i will become evergreen
beautiful, tall, luscious and full- pine or cedar or spruce
staying fragrant all year round

but for now i remain a daisy
nothing special
dried, pressed and crushed between these pages, within these words.

How can one person make you feel empty
like they have broken you,
as if they have grabbed your heart out of your chest,
just so they can stop your heart from pounding,
from believing, from breathing just long enough.
Then they let go, and all of a sudden you feel again.
Your crushed heart breaths, but not long enough…
You grasping for air that's just not there.
The pain that you had been forced to suppress comes,
and now your dying…Why?

Sometimes I wish you were never apart of my life.

But if it wasn't for you, what the hell would be left of me?

Would all of the cuts and scratches and scars disappear? All of these ugly, little things that tell my story would simply evaporate?

It's because of you that I can tell the good days from the bad.

And it's because of you I appreciate the small things.

I appreciate smooth roads because I've driven on rocky.

Some days I close my eyes so tight they hurt. I beg and I beg and I beg that when I wake up, all of the bad is gone.

The memories.

The hurt.

The ache.

But I open my eyes and I'm still just here. So I exist.

And some days, that's all I need to do,

Simply exist.

in the hall, I listen as she calls out
his name

not aware I am there,
nor would she care

if I open the door without making
a sound,

I purloin a few seconds to watch her
before she sees me

when her eyes catch mine,
she looks away

the morning sun makes a sympathetic effort
to light our room

"our" room which from which I have
been excommunicated

the drapes she sewed only last summer
are never open

that is her world, staring through
baby blue curtains

which mute the half light of morning,
though not enough

not enough to blind her to the spot
where her son's crib waited

until I committed the unpardonable
sin of taking it to the cold cellar

only a fortnight after our stillborn child
was placed in the ground

In lonely moments
I stroll the waning memories
when love pure smiled blissfully
deep within a fawning heart

a wistful melody arises untainted
like a steaming enslaved passion
                         breathlessly released
                              unrestrained,..

         ­                          evident
                    as the pressed and dried flowers
          cuddled between life's ardent petaled pages,
                         bookmarks of the heart

                         traces of the wild bouquets
                         that often soothingly caress’d
                         the energizing tingles  
                         inflaming a tantalizing touch

                         the yearning  empty voids
                         feverishly undressed,
                         traced in the hidden sands
                         of unexplored oceans..
                        
                         though time and distance
make the bereft heart grow helplessly fonder,
memories fade softly as the summer breeze befalls,
  
                         as gentle feather’d touch
                         the evanescent sunset afterglow
                         where the earth and sky align
                         the dimming of the day

         loving can heal
the poet’s bleeding words,
loving can mend your soul ―

                         the perennial dawning of an
                         unpromised new day
                         will someday come again

        bequeathed like the bluebird’s mirthful song
to bring forth nascent wild flowers’ blossoming petals
              flourishing in the meadow of my heart


                 *Someone you used to know

I can feel a gun pressed to my head,
a soft breeze to my neck,
his tender breath
- I am waiting for every word like an explosion-

Arbitrary colors surpass my mind,
there isn't a reality strong or safe enough for me to call home.
And I understand,
this torture is my paradise,
this moment of mindfulness
and heroine feels like
I am capable of all pain

I used to be me
I used to wake up feeling sick
Days were useless just because
I'd spend them trying to figure out
who I was
and fixing myself to death
cause I was never good enough
to please my inner voices
( they'd shout to my ear:
"What are you so afraid of?")

Now it is done
And I am free.

you and me not being together,
all the tears
and drunk messages;
you leaving me
and the way your lips
touched hers last week
(you don't know that i know,
but i do);

the fact that i would give you
another chance,
yet you won't ask for it;
craving your kisses, your perfume, your eyes,
your jokes, your compliments,
your messy hair,
your voice whispering
"i can't believe you're here";

getting sick over my broken heart,
knowing i don't have the right
to kiss you ever again
and that you won't sing
love songs to me
anymore

i don't like those things,
i don't, god, not at all,
but i still like you
and i don't know
how to move on

you're a love tease
resurfacing when I have
finally forgotten
how you sound,
how you feel-
flashing your smile and
reminding me that I
did not give it to you,
as if I hadn't died trying.
how real can your love be,
could it have been,
if you use the same words-
pair royalty and faith-
with a completely new face?

you will never understand
my ultra-sensitivity,
the pain that's overtaken me.
so deep that I'm lying
where the light has never touched.

I buried you beneath
an oceans worth of sand
too hot to touch, just in case
I thought for a second
that I should try to again.

I hate you so much
but love you even more,
so much so that I can forget
over and over
every knife
that was plunged
through my body
every lie
that made me bleed inside.

perhaps my love is unconditional.