I drowned the thought of you in my 11pm Sangria ritual to chase away the demons that plague my mind, that tell me I am not good enough for you. The bed we once shared now suffers from a cold spot from where you use to lay with me. We use to generate so much heat when our bodies touched that I thought we would become hotter than the sun. You use to tell me how beautiful I was; that I held my Moscato white wine with such great precaution not to spill it that you thought I was an angel carrying a soul to the hands of God. You knew my heart was delicate. After all, the very sight of me sent venom pulsing through your veins, sort of like you wanted to destroy my already-feeble bones. Your anger teased out shyness in me, and when you decided to lift your hand that one faithful night to smack me it sent me crawling on my hands and knees for forgiveness, just to see that we wouldn’t end up on the road my parents once were. You made tears swell up in my eyes when you were inside me, and soon I learned not to cry when you decided to plow my body, a land for the taking. Parts of me started dying, and soon I was nothing but an empty shell with dampened eyes. You took, and took, until you got furious at me that there was nothing left to take. Sometimes I still sit in the corners of my bedroom silent because you loved me most when you saw me there, your tiny little ghost just waiting for you to make her disappear. And on some nights when I was with you, disappearing didn’t seem all too bad- you use to scare me enough that I wished you had removed the love marks you left on my alabaster skin. What we had was toxic, and I was on life support just to get by the fact that I was nothing more than your special object. Day after wretched day you tortured me with ‘I love you’s’ and smacks across the face that caused blood to erode from my cheeks. My voice started to shake and yelps came through my mouth when you decided that my contorted body was a pleasure worth seeing, that my pain was the very essence of why you ever loved me to begin with. I can’t remember the first day you started to push me under, but I know that when you did you would never let me come up out of that black water for more than 3 seconds, just so I could get another gasp of air to last me a couple of more months. I will never regret the time you told me I was worth more than you, because maybe that was your healthy conscience talking. Maybe you could have loved me better. Maybe I could have listened more.

All I can say is that I will never forget the time you choked me hard enough that I couldn’t breathe; that you smacked my head so hard against our bedroom wall that the snap sent my brains splattering across what was now your floor.  

-ritual

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it wasn't suppose to be you;
a trip to the woods in the night,
you eyeing me as if i was prey
and me taking it as a compliment.
seeing stars at 2am, i staggered towards you for a rush of heat-
the universe unfolding before me with the substances you gave me a hour before
instead of protecting me, you had other plans
tempting me through my nerve endings, my orifices, my weak spots.
suddenly, amidst your rough hands and pulling and shoving down my body
i am transported to a land of innocence.
the mother Mary smiles at me wickedly, god laughing and spitting secrets in her ear
the grass going from emerald green to the rotting colour of brown
claws scratch at my body too violently for pleasure and i scream "no, stop, stop"
but before i awake from my slumber filled with nightmares and childish screams
your shadow is gone, your evidence left inside me
and i cry through my heart like a stubborn child
trashing around on the floor and being bitten by bugs as
the roses within my mind die out and the smell of innocence is ripped from my chest
it wasn't suppose to be you;
and yet it was.

-july

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Your face is godly; i have never seen something so beautiful. I could trace my fingers over it for eternity and never get tired of the secrets I find within every stroke of my finger tips.
Your eyes, shine a dull crystal blue- they hold the care of a father within them. You tell me you love me with them, without words, and I know in that moment I am home.
Your hands seem old, but they look like they can hold all the problems in the world- that you can close in your fists to a million glass shards between your fingers.
Your arms are like vines. i imagine when I first return to them, if they will wrap around me and never let me go.
Your body is a temple. i visit it as much as I can, hoping for an entry to give up my next prayer. i don't have to speak, because it knows me, and it protects me when I need it most. I am grateful for your body.
Your heart is magnificent. A roaring *****, a romantic rose, your heart never fails to woo the tempted children that press their ears against your wooden chest. I wonder when you see me, naked or clothed, if it has ever skipped a beat. If it has ever jumped out of your chest like mine has with you.

I am sorry it has taken me so long to realize the beauty within simplicity. I had never taken the time to recognize these things about you; to register your honest and pure love for me. I was too busy with my activities, my life, to finally stop and look at you once with cleared eyes.
I now walk to my death bed. I know when you love another, I will officially be gone. The dirt will fill my lungs, the regret of another's hands will sting the womanly parts of me while sobbing will ensue. I understand what has to be done but I don't want it to. I want to breathe and be yours and feel your warmth within my body when you ****** one last time into me. I want to become tangled in your arms and assure you I will be here this time. I want to run my hands through your hair, kiss your lips, and give you the world. I want you to be happy and glowing and simply magnificent. I want all these things that I can't have- because I am on my death bed, and you will eventually love another- which is why I must go... and pass on.

-we must move on to grow

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white walls
tiny windows
heavy breathing stains the walls in coughed up bubbles coloured red
pure sheets on hard mattress break the very bone of your back
as you lay here alone.
the songs of the one you use to love send gun shots into your chest
as you lay still, waiting for the enemy to attack.
bodies piled on bodies you recognize the stench of death that once plagued your mind
and committed sins on your wrists
but you fight so hard to release yourself but the water keeps coming in
and soon your lungs are like a fish tank; your filter will be clean but the water never emptied
the march of your enemies sound closer now
and mother Mary watches down with a bruised face and a contorted body
you want to scream but nothing comes out
and you know she cries for you when you're sleeping
while God sits back and controls the show
you've been here, you've seen your life ahead of you all before
so breath in, breath out, your chest will collapse
and remember to relax, remember to relax
let the darkness consume you
while the tears stain the sheets--

-white and red

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running in perfect circles,
but there's no where left to run.
another day you've moved on without me,
i guess you've already won.
there's nothing to do, there's nothing to say
except chase away the sun
and when I'm with you and I close my eyes
i know we're already done.

there's no point to remind me,
there's no point to try to care
you're actions speak louder than your words
trust me, I've been there.
despite you saying you need me, and that you love me too
i know you think of other women when I'm not with you.

i try to remind myself that
good people never lie
but you're good person image is slowly fading in my eyes.
you told me that when you're with me
you seem to be complete
but how can you be complete
when all you see me as is a piece of meat?

what I don't understand, and what I try to
is why you do what you do
and the answer is obvious and scary but
i'm still in love with you.
it kills me just to say that, like poison in my food
but if I don't say it, either way,
i know I'll follow through.

you leave me at the perfect times,
the times when I'm alone.
is that why you tried to disregard my cries
when I was drowning and you were afloat?
slowly but surely I faded down
and you'd promise to be there
and you were there- I must admit-
to see me take in nothing but water and little air.

so here's my poem to you
the one to make you glad,
remember you destroyed a woman
and took everything she had.

-you made the book

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there are times where i remember everything you have given me. you taught me the best things and the worst. you taught me how to love with all my heart, and how to hate with every inch of my soul. there are times where i remember the way you use to look at me. when you use to pay attention, nod your head in awe of what i had to think, of what i had to feel. you use to look so golden, even underneath the moons pale gaze and the cigarette smoke against your breeze-chilled skin. i use to look like a ghost. only visible to your eyes. there are times where i remember everything you told me. remembering that i have the power to leave the cold bath water if i pleased. that i had the power. you use to always be there for me. you always use to protect me when i needed it the most. i could call you and you'd be waiting for me on the other end. i always did the same for you. i still would. i remember the times you use to love me. when i was your favourite, and we'd dance around in the darkness, unafraid and young. before our cigarettes turned stale, our lipstick running out, you use to love me. it seems now the track has stopped, the feelings gone; unamused and full of malice, you used to love me. you used to. and now you've used me entirely.

-the first layer

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