Our love bred nothing but deceit

an endless line of lies

heirs to untruths and fictions

it runs in the family

this passion for deception

this ache to mislead

we beg an audience for our falsehoods

for they are nothing if they go unappreciated

these frantic fabrications

Every breath is agony
when you’re conflicted about
whether you want to take it

dark shadows,
creeping into the corners of my heart

ghosts in my head,
talking to me at night,
their endless plotting for

more

paralysis when I try to wake from
this nightmare, that is happening without sleep

I am screaming from the bottom of the ocean
but it is too late, for no one saw me

drowning

This is not my war

this struggle of hearts,
fighting for dominance

thinking there can only be one winner,
because that’s what life has taught us

love has one winner,
and the winner, victorious,
takes the very soul of the loser,

but no, I will not play this game,
with my silver dagger,
shining sharp as the stars

I will not plunge it into any man,
nor allow it to be turned inward,
into my own heart

I will not fight you to the death

I will give our love to the moon,
in the hopes that she will bring peace
to your restless soul

my girlhood unravels like wool,
coarse, that unwanted touch  
stinging my skin,

a wasps nest, kicked alive
swarming all over me,

but these stings will not scar me,

I will grow new skin,
a shroud of flesh that has not
known the prickle of unwanted fingers tips

I will rise from the ashes of your depravity
like a Phoenix, born again

we danced on the eggshells
of our broken hearts

each step was exquisite agony,
and carried the endless hope
that we may find our way to love again

in the white dust crumbs

I am the ghost of poetry past

that cringe in your chest as you skim through words you once thought barred your soul
but now only shame it

that lump in your throat
as you try not to cry over a cliched metaphor
you used when you were sixteen and riddled with angst

you may think I am only here
to hurt and embarrass you

but actually,
I am the best teacher you’ll ever have

I will allow you to learn from what
now looks like shattered prose

I will allow you to grow from the imagery
you didn’t get quite right

and when poetry future calls,
she will bare gifts of words of wonder

that were only made possible
through listening to me

The trees sang our names
as if we were an ancient song,
shrouded in mystery and an infinite hope

the woods rattled with longing,
as our hearts danced beneath
a star splattered carpet

we were not unique, or new to these elements,
but it didn’t matter,

they held our love close
as if it were a newborn baby,
seeing a life unfurl as it gazed
into our bright blue eyes

as our souls cried out, primal,
for one more dance