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Jesha May 2018
The darkness thins with the break of dawn
Kissing me awake at last
Limbs stiff from unseen shackles, I ache
No longer smothered by that violent silence
Where night’s claws pecked and chewed at my frozen flesh

I hunger for the world outside my window
Throbbing with life untamed
I hunger for the endless day
And dread the night to come

Hours like sand sift through fingers
I grasp onto the light with a fever
******* the sun’s marrow for strength

The light fractures under the fall of dusk
And darkness welcomes me once again
The ritual of the ******
Jesha May 2018
She always hated her hair
How the sheet of gold would shackle her down
Like a fly in a trap
Sticking to the shine of her lips
Getting lost between the valleys of her arms
Burning her scalp as she tried to yank herself free
From her flaxen prison

I always loved her hair
How it would fall over the ***** of my arm
Like a waterfall
Vining its way around my limbs
Teasing my chin and then my lips
Fluttering against my nose
Asphyxiating me with her scent
Sweet peach Heaven

I think I miss her hair the most.
Jesha Apr 2018
All these lies and smiles I eat
Rest in my head like the tombs of the dead
And make a tally in mind, I keep
For the time comes soon, I shall shed
The decay that stains dry lips black
And Pollocks the mountains of my cheeks
Like webs of a spider, left unchecked
A scorn of thorns I will mete
For each scar of a promise unkept
Has nested a home in my dried-up heart
And unlike you, for whom I've wept
Their bitter voices keep me warm

Betrayal grips me like a forgotten lover
I dance in your demise, and rise - untethered.
Once upon a time I was forced into following rules & writing a sonnet for homework...
Jesha Mar 2018
Fingertips singed with ink trail over paper that’s still crisp with innocence
Spreading the ashes of all the words that were no more than the potential
Laying forgotten among the carnage of its crinkled sisters

With every scrape and smudge of the pen, the heart is at risk
Like a slab of raw meat on the butcher’s block
Waiting patiently for the cool kiss of the cleaver

But this heart is a violent heart
Ruthless in its mission
Forever evading the Doubts grazing their silver teeth across its juicy flesh
Grinning gleefully, defiantly
Fueled by spilled ink and wasted words
Jesha Mar 2018
Did he kiss it a kiss he never kissed me,
With lips and tongue, bitter and hard?
Or was it a peck on the jaw, right under the chin,
Hot skin meeting cold metal?
Definitely not a lover’s caress of the temple
For he was no more stupid than sentimental.

Blood and brain guts
Pollocked across the sheets
Soaking into the unfinished headboard–
Drops of ruby peppering the walls–
Eyes vacant, like ***** dishwater

A kiss from you would have been a gun to my lips–
Perhaps I dodged a bullet
When you decided to love yourself more than me.
Jesha Feb 2018
Maybe Heaven's only a moment
A speck of a memory on repeat
And we're none the wiser
For time is a concept concocted by fools

And if Heaven's a moment
Then I hope you're in Hell
Strangled by all the moments you'll never get
As the Harpies pluck at your dishwater eyes
And lick the rotten marrow from your bones
Forever feasting on your futile regret
For the future you blew apart
Jesha Feb 2018
I feel bad for the Moon who burns my skin
It wasn’t her fault, but rather her lover’s
Skin once milky white -
Now swathed in blistery red
What was once a warm embrace -
Now needles in my veins
That deceiving Sun
Who once kissed my flesh into a blush
Has abandoned me to the agony of nightfall
And here I sway among a sea of grass caked in Summer's tears
Shaking my fist angrily at the Moon
Whose glow neither harms nor heals me -
But reveals her lover's trickery
*An extension from Among the Windmills.
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