Throbbing throat from my strangling sobs,
Agony riddles my tingling lips with shades of
blood reds and vibrant scarlets.
All is split to expose the gorgeous hues of
his love.
Coating my lips in glossy red dew drops while it’s
dragged across my face like the sunset.
Dripping down my pulsing neck covered with azure bruises.
“You’re so beautiful my darling” his mouth speaks,
but his fist speaks a different language.
It expresses a devoted strike to my eyes to
gift me with its
love.
Blurry vision greets me while something damaged is
gazing at me from the shattered glass mirror,
Broken,
Crushed pieces of valuable innocence stares back to
send me a message which I cannot decode.
My face is blended with stunning arrays of his makeup.
Water colour blues line my tear ducts,
Deep purples create bottomless lakes around my sockets while
rivers spill from my hollow glassy eyes.
Brown and buttery diluted stains dapple my cheeks,
Tender to his touch,
All this while hots streams melt down my face from the
gloomy lakes.
Mascara and foundation conceal dull marks.
I only wear his work of art behind closed doors,
For just his eyes to
linger upon endlessly.
He tells me I’m elegant with my mouth
held shut,
Hands burned by rope behind my back.
I am still beautiful, but why does it
have to hurt?
He calls me beautiful when I waltz around,
Stripping off my dignity at his request,
Leaving piles of my little self-respect on his floor.
If I were to disobey his command again,
The love in his hands will wrangle my small
neck to breathlessness.
So I am stuck.
Stuck being beautiful
while being
in
pain.
Aug 27, 2017
Aug 27, 2017 at 6:34 PM UTC
Throbbing throat from my strangling sobs,
Agony riddles my tingling lips with shades of
blood reds and vibrant scarlets.
All is split to expose the gorgeous hues of
his love.
Coating my lips in glossy red dew drops while it’s
dragged across my face like the sunset.
Dripping down my pulsing neck covered with azure bruises.
“You’re so beautiful my darling” his mouth speaks,
but his fist speaks a different language.
It expresses a devoted strike to my eyes to
gift me with its
love.
Blurry vision greets me while something damaged is
gazing at me from the shattered glass mirror,
Broken,
Crushed pieces of valuable innocence stares back to
send me a message which I cannot decode.
My face is blended with stunning arrays of his makeup.
Water colour blues line my tear ducts,
Deep purples create bottomless lakes around my sockets while
rivers spill from my hollow glassy eyes.
Brown and buttery diluted stains dapple my cheeks,
Tender to his touch,
All this while hots streams melt down my face from the
gloomy lakes.
Mascara and foundation conceal dull marks.
I only wear his work of art behind closed doors,
For just his eyes to
linger upon endlessly.
He tells me I’m elegant with my mouth
held shut,
Hands burned by rope behind my back.
I am still beautiful, but why does it
have to hurt?
He calls me beautiful when I waltz around,
Stripping off my dignity at his request,
Leaving piles of my little self-respect on his floor.
If I were to disobey his command again,
The love in his hands will wrangle my small
neck to breathlessness.
So I am stuck.
Stuck being beautiful
while being
in
pain.