I cringed
at the very thought
of losing you

and almost died
when I found out I did

In his fingertips
lies the power to draw hearts
right upon my thigh

Tangled in the sheets
while your fingers play in places unseen,
your heart hides a monster that won't allow you to feel such things.
When she finally falls into the warming breeze and smiles at your gaze, you will shatter her hopes into shards of glass that will cut her apart for days.
You bitter man you,
will you ever change your ways?

A tightened jaw will forever keep the secret she held on for too long,
for how foolish of her to fall in love with a monster.
You'll catch her tear in your gnashing teeth in an angry thrash thereafter,
because you have realized how foolish you've been to have lost her.
So it's then you'll lure her in with your broken promises and infatuating praise,
leaving her once again broken and shattered for days.
You bitter man you,
will you ever change your ways?

She will find her strength one day,
and you'll have no choice but to turn away.
But, like the evil you are,
you'll await in the debths of the shadows,
hidden within the valleys of her heart.
You know exactly the spots within her
that have become rot with decay;
desperate and waiting for a healing,
patiently waiting for change.
Is this why you can never meet her gaze?
Look into her eyes and dare to see the damage you cannot undo,
you bitter man you.

...

Should I jab this ink into my jugular and let the words express themselves in a manner never seen before?
All the while I pour out every single emotion ever known to exist in my being onto puddles of madness on the floor
Maybe that will allow the world to see the words for what they really are and judge the poet not
And the world can envision its own rolling fields of golden daisies in a soil made from carefully sifted rock
Praise the blood that bleeds profusely upon the lines of every page
And bless the minds of the loved and lost who discovered pain at an early age
Allow me to place the cap so carefully back atop the pen so that you may take my metaphors and open doors and churn them in your heart and head
It's only when I stop bleeding
that I am truly dead

Hear the voices
shaking, both
in pleasure
and in fear,
as they sweetly
whisper moonlight
twixt the shadows
in our hearts,
brightening the farthest
corners where hope
lays dying, gasping
within the choking
cloud of nothingness
offered up by
every false
prophet of emotion,
each of whom
chokes us
with words as
opposed to breathing
new life
with actions.

Liberty from my inner prisons;
from my mind I am freed!
No more shall I fall;
my heart is lighter indeed!
Toast up your wine
in honor of my soul;
For freedom taste like honey
and my future's paved in gold!
Be it the center of a rose;
I am the food of the seed
Let the wind carry my presence;
for I have finally been freed!