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Jess Bull Dec 2015
My insides are cracking little by little
Day by day
And as each day passes
I have a thousand words in my mind
But nothing to say

Why do I want to spend time with you
When you are always seeking out space
I don't understand this mismatch
And my faith in us is slipping from its place

The beginning was endless
And my heart never stayed on beat
Now that phase is surely over
And my hollowness reaches from heart to feet

I don't know what you want
And I'm too scared to ask again
I don't want to be without you
But being with you isn't telling me anything.
Jess Bull Dec 2015
Vague and curiosity strike the audience
Of the author of such a cryptic message
The writer has everything to say but doesn't choose to say it
You will stop and consider the message's possible true meaning
Like one needing "to cut off her dead ends" when one posts a picture
Of a haircut
Or one saying "she now knows how it feels"
And her reading it, she does.
But these cryptic messages bring out the creativity in all our hearts
How can we contort or twist those messages to get its true meaning
We wonder and consider and wonder that one says something so poetic, so beautiful
Yet poetry and a cryptic messages share something
Poetry breaks a heart of the reader and leaves them wondering how
A cryptic message does the same
Except the reader wonders and considers if it really is meant for them...
Or someone else
A cryptic message holds so much power
And the truth that the author refuses to share
A poem takes an idea and allows its roots to grow in an infinite way that creates a stir in the readers mind

So really, a poem is just like a cryptic message.
Jess Bull Apr 2014
She said, "It would be a pleasure to walk on glass."
Always exhausted by the outcome
She saw in the mirror those few days
"I'm stronger without you, no? Without a leech.
******* away my love. My freedom. My feminism. My drive.
Why must he allow me to feel this weak?"

She didn't see the light anymore
She wanted to walk with her chin up and optimism for the rest of the week.
But no.
No could she walk when he seemed to completely given up

She was weak. She didn't want him anymore.
She wanted to breathe her own air.
Her own thoughts.
Her own words.
What she wanted to do.
No more guilt.
No more misunderstandings.
Just her.
And God.
And her newly born to-do list for Selfish She.
Jess Bull Mar 2014
Physical and mental pain
Relentless and anguishing
But what about mental pain
Pain unseen
Bubbles. Bubbles. Finally boils over

It's one concept to be damaged by mental suffrage
But how about being the one who commits the act
Onto a lover? Stranger? Friend? Lover is worst.

The pain onto a lover is equivalent to a stranger tenfold
Tossing a grenade straight to a healthy selfless heart. The lovers heart.
And then you. Isolated. In a corner.
Being told in one ear you did it
Yet another ear says is that really what YOU YOURSELF wanted?

Pain comes and goes in abundance
How to deal? The theory of talking it out is one
Yet the only one who can help is the one you shoved a knife into
You ask yourself--speaking to them...
Would this twist the knife?

Maybe do yourself a favor and just shut the **** up and experience your consequences.

They did. Falling in and out with you.
Jess Bull Dec 2013
Wanting the experience to be gone
Yet understanding why it happened
I remind myself every knights night has its dawn
While my heart remains flattened

All of a sudden my body became a statue
She wanted this to be my punishment
What was done is done and fighting back has no value
After all, I was her baby but then became contorted and bent

My  father enters the room and picks up on the familiar scent
I sob and shake while holding my tender body
Evil laughs after she has inflicted both physical and mental torment
Hope exits and fear embodies

Alone angry and afraid
How does a temper reach that level of rage?
Piecing together what was torn apart from a trusting blade
I quietly fight my demons inside  this donated cage.
Jess Bull Dec 2013
Was it easy for you?
  At first it was hell- then I was free
My  hell has arrived
  Your absence was the present past
Why did you do this
  How couldn't you listen to the death of us?
I'm now taking blame
  We've all at times been devils advocate
I can't take this space
  Welcome to the suffrage you ignored
Suffrage is improper
  Being lovers when I felt merely friendship?
I love you
  Loved is proper. Effort? Care? Eliminated.
I can't handle this solitude
  Yes you can. Grow alone. I did--without you.
  We're certainly not one anymore
I was stupid baby
  That's not why I'm here; to debate
Then why did you show
  To fully implement meaning to an end.
Jess Bull Dec 2013
Throwing up will make you beautiful
After all, beauty is pain
Waxing every square inch of your human body
Squeezing into those Spanx to hide your smallest flaws

Your daughter, she needs help with her eating disorder
There's no beauty in that. Strictly pain.
Or telling your 20 year old best friend everyday for 6 years a size 3 isn't anywhere neat fat
Having the same conversation with a 10 year old girl: is that any more beautiful? No.
Forget that beauty isn't painful

A mother experiencing excruciating pain yet forgetting it all when she holds her child for the first time
Death of a man with terminal illness--all the pain built up to the soul finally at ease
The battered woman seeking courage to break free and begin new life

Actual emphasis to "beauty is pain" is one who pushes through the undesired struggle-- beauty is the reward
Remember that beauty can be painful
What's beautiful in your life?

— The End —