The monster that is me
Is carefully suppressed.
My wildest desires
Tucked neatly in a corner.
My mind rules everything:
Even my heart is its servant.
Feelings are no match
For the fear of losing control.
Because it will happen:
my eyes will see through red.
Control will be lost.
All in my path destroyed.
For I am losing control.
I won't hold back.
We are all strays
Searching for a home
In the secret places
Of each other.
Love is a terrible and gentle beast
Living inside my chest.
Killing me softly with a tender word,
Devouring me with silken teeth.
And it feels so good.
When you see her cry
you get a rag,
a gentle delicate cloth.
Lovingly grasp her hand
and dab its tip;
dry each tear as they come.
And ask each drop
why it'd leave
such beautiful eyes.
If she wishes
to be in the sky,
tell her to go.
Take the sun ransom,
and replace its shining
with her own.
So you can see her every morning
and wish for her
return each night.
When you see her scars
both visible and non-
touch each gently.
And remind her
that each and every hurt
she has survived,
has only made her
that much more unique;
that much stronger.
Show her that she
is a special person
and is worthy of love.
That she deserves the love
she fears to give...
show her so that
one day after you're gone
she can find the strength
to go on without you.
Tell her that while
she might not be a goddess
far above worldly desires,
that she is amazing,
for just being herself
for being that beautiful girl
who thinks herself damaged
when in truth she's just
a different kind of beautiful.
And finally, love her.
Like a boy loves a girl
Till she finally remembers
that that's what she is:
not a scar, not a goddess,
not a star. But a girl.
That deserves to be loved.
When she cries herself to sleep
six out of seven nights a week you must
say nothing. You must simply take
her in your arms and kiss her gaunt,
pale cheeks and wait for her to
slumber at the sound of your heart.
On the days where she wishes she
were part of the stars, tell her
no. Tell her that there are too many
lights in the sky and that just one
would be forgotten the moment you looked
away from it. Tell her that she is perfect
the way she is: completely human.
Don't let her think about the scars
that no one but her can see. If she
says "I think I'm broken" smile like you
know a secret and say, "No, you're mending."
But do not be the one to fix her - no, she
must be the one to do it herself, and you
merely are there to quietly encourage her.
Read her poetry (even if you are
not a poet), the kind that uses
flowery words and compares girls to
the moon; the kind that you will
rewrite for her. Make her a warrior.
Make her a goddess with eyes like a
wolf's and a smile like a tiger's.
Laugh with her the first thing in
the morning and the last thing before
you fall asleep. Tell her cheap puns
that you've been thinking of for weeks.
And when she smiles - the type of smile
that could bring you to your knees if
you aren't careful - know that for the
moment, she's yours. She is whole.
Love her. Love her like a fish loves
the sea or a bird loves the sky. Love
her in the way that your heart feels like
it's going to burst at any moment every
time it beats. Love her skin and the way
it feels against your own, soft and warm
and utterly flawless. Love her for the way
her voice trembles when she can't keep it
together anymore and love her when she
holds onto you as if you were the only
thing that was keeping her alive.
Love her, because some days she just can't do it herself.
What have they done to her?
Ravaged and plundered
Ripped her and bit her.
Tied her up and pinned her down.
Why would they do this?
To satisfy their perverse desires.
To infect someone else
With the hurt they've endured.
How could this happen?
Because she'd been hurt before.
After the pain had dulled,
It was the only thing that excited her.
Stop hurting her.
Hurt me instead.
Just make it stop.
I am taken at night
In the twilight hours before I sleep.
A breath of death
Whispering to me what I dare not hear.
I am an empty shell;
My personality is a mask over nothingness
And I left hoping that they do not show.
I could have done better--
Things could have gone my way
Had I only tried harder--
Instead of taking the easy way out.
I haven't done anything but deceive:
Even what is real is actually fake.
Built on a bed of lies.
Each of these things and more I am told
My mind reeling with despair.
In the morning these thoughts will be gone.
Their effects will remain.
The thoughts that keep me awake at nights.