To paint the picture of the chaos
Would
Require a brush filled with blood colored
Rivers
Drawn on canvas of dark and bomb filled black

To know the anguish of the loss
Would
Require a mother held at gunpoint
A scared brave father taking out Imaginary
Money
From his pocket to pay for the lives of his family

To know of the horror
Would
Require a sharp needle pulling at the side of your
Lungs
In absolute silent running with the night
through the blankets of nameless, faceless bodies
Laying in a dance on the floor
As live ones stumbled on pass it

To know of the shierks
Would
Require your hands to be over your
Ears
But the sound of life dying still passed the
Barricades of your your hands
Shocking your eardrums
And stealing the little piece of life left in you

To tell of the genocide
Would
Require survivors
For lifeless bodies do not talk
Do not tell
But what if the lives one are living in another death
Not the one that killed your body
But that one that kills your soul


Who then will tell of the Genocide?

I sat there watching her tell of the love of her life
Who was stolen from her by
An envious bullet.
She had a pen, a paper and limited words
She wanted words, she needed words,
But I wanted to tell her it is okay
If words did not suffice,
It's okay that words could not fathom
The weight of her despair
She knew inside what that pain meant
And to translate for us was nearly impossible.
But she tried.
Fighting for the words that would paint
The bruises on her heart
Fighting for the words that could breathe him back to life again
She wanted him to live.

It is the subtle
Clang of your doubt
That rings relentlessly in my ear
Shouting silently
As I unpack your weight into
Small biteable pieces

I look for the smile
I left tucked away behind my teeth
Pushing it out to make this unpacking
Seamless, painless,

You smile too,
Undeservingly so,
Your teeth like claws dragging my eyes from your eyes
To the suitcase of your mess
My broken pieces
Laying dumbfounded in your hands

So unrecognizable,
I use what’s left of my heart to feel the pieces that I still call me
Pieces you couldn’t have reshaped
no matter how hard your blow
The sharp two-edged sword of your tongue
Can only reach me when I am near

You take the part of me too black to take back
And I take the part of you, you never gave
Each of us stealing
An allusion of who we were
The smile still etched on our faces
And the suitcase a little less full

Do you write down on red colored paper and spill blood all over it
Or do chew it up, and let it sit on the bottom of our mouth,
Taunting the back of our throats until it spills out
And faces the brutality of the person who gave it?

You sit in silence
As the light illuminates your eyes
Your eyes,
Like something familiarly strange
His eyes, I knew I loved his eyes,
Your eyes

Fear starts to flood down
Captivating my soul, I begin to joyously mourn
With a confused certainty, I wait for you to stop staring
Stop looking at me knowingly
with visible secrets
your eyes tell me out loud
your silence shouts
and in the world nested by your car
I am fallen

I watch you drive me,
I watch you take me through the rain and the darkness,
I watch you sit there, so confidently
While I shrink in my seat, overwhelmed by your love and my darkness
Stop!

Let me out of your car,
let me cry
Let me mourn
Let me

But I long for the light that illuminates your eyes
Shining into my soul
I see it sitting there confidently
Happily so
But I am broken
And you are too whole