you are important beyond your thoughts,
you have come so far in such a small amount of time,
your efforts are not ignored.
three hundred and sixty-five days have passed twenty times,
and you are still breathing.
i have loved you for three hundred and sixty-five days times,
the days you have suffered,
the moments you failed,
the hours in which you felt alone;
you were locked in but you wanted someone to pry the door down to let your demons out.
i have not stopped loving you and i may have stopped showing it but
that showed your determination.
you pushed on in your personal dark hours just to make it to the light.
the glow of hope that now radiates onto your skin,
you are living proof that strength lies within.
love brought it out,
but your courage kept it constant.

hope aches
it’s a feeling that yearns for positivity
while ripping at emotions from the inside.
it’s a spell that needs just enough pain to create a final happiness.
hope craves,
starving yourself to get just a bite.

Fairy tales have always had an antagonist;
an evil witch or vengeful pirate,
plotting against the beloved hero,
but not all stories are realistic.
There are villains out to get you,
but they can be a lot closer than a broom ride away.
The ones glaring with glowing eyes from the shadows emerge
and you recognize that reflection.

Sometimes the one preventing you from completing a task,
celebrating a victory,
or capturing the damsel.
Is because the distress is yours
and the hand locking it away can be your own twisting the key.

Growing up there was chaos reshaping the love;
it was the cycle that gave us our dynamic.
A single thing acted like a looming shadow as it circled our warm home.
It would **** them one by one into its cold smog.
I grew used to its presence;
making me numb to its touch.
I had to settle the rest of their souls by ridding them of the darkness.
I was young but I understood pain;
I saw it in their eyes,
heard it behind a smile,
and felt it with the lingering touch -
longing to be comforted.
Eventually, the shadow turns to light.
The pain dissolved,
but I still remember every situation I made right -
the memories of the darkness still live inside me.

the only way I could ever love myself is if I can look with rose colored glasses
but my vision is clear; lenses untinted and I can see all that I bare.

As you guzzle down your emotions,
forcibly silencing yourself,
You’re actually drowning an addiction;
Rather than your sorrows.
the liquid that easily slides down your throat,
is engulfing you in its depressively, thick brew.
Your eyes are noticeably bloodshot,
while mine are hidden behind hands and muffled tears.

I can’t remember every detail but within the darker memories-
I see happiness.
Each gray, childhood faded image brightens when I recall the love that swarmed that house.
It was a time before I feared,
Before we grieved,
Before life overtook each conversation.
Instead, every face held a welcoming smile,
Laughter was sung with each breath,
Life was nothing but the one I shared with those four people within those walls.
Those four people made those four walls, wrapping around us like an embrace,
a home.

I fell in love with a demonic woman.
I knew her claws would scar me,
her touch would burn,
her eyes would betray the words spit from her lips.
She sold her soul to the devil,
and I gave up my heart for her.

some of your words may unwilt my image,
but it is my mind that plants seeds in my core,
my heart sprouts buds,
and my soul creates blooming bouquets.

Your candy land was amazing at first,
a sickly sweet that gradually made me feel worse.
You eventually turned bitter and ****,
right around the time you were ready to rip out my heart.

Twisted thoughts escape his dry, cherry red lips; cracked, koolaid stained skin that admit to traumatic events unfolded.

I can’t peel my eyes away from his pale figure; a contrast to his orange get up.

The words smoothly falling out of his mouth, send shivers down my spine.
No one would consider his brain is rattling off recounts of that night while his inner friends help him remember the picture of her body that is burned into his brain- a contorted mind exposed.

Cooked flesh is the aroma he gives off and I gag, he stole my love and her smell still lingers; taunting me of an instance where I couldn’t be a hero.

The gavel pounds down and the cloaked man declares his fate.
As the newly added cold metal traps him into a life of isolation, he looks at me.
His ****** lips curl into a sneer as he is hauled back to hell.

screaming to nothingness is painful.
my throat is raw,
begging to be felt
tears masking my strength;
blinding my vision.
I cannot be heard but I yell louder.
I’m trying so hard for you.
The nothingness is your deaf ears,
my words falling onto them,
Ignoring my pleas.
Hear me.
Why won’t you listen?

The cotton fluff from your sweater,
is stuck between my bitten down nails.
A symbol left behind from a night,
where my integrity was questioned.

Most of the marks you left are permanently scarred in my brain,
I bet your skin is tingling thinking of my touch;
scratching away at your flesh hastily.
The only reason you had to pull away,
was not because of my mantra that sounded so pleasant in your ears,
It was the pain that you couldn’t take;
though I was suffering a lot more.

You called me names because I was fighting for my safety,
the cruel reminders you hissed flooded my ears,
no one would believe me;
I’ll stay silent.

Your life is permanently etched onto your skin,
as faded colors melting like heated wax.

You're not who you are because of the markings,
the ink represents what you believe in.

The blank,
flesh canvas was provided to show off your art,
your story,
the life you have lived.

kiss your fist and punch me
hurt me harshly
make me bleed
rip my hair
shame me publicly
**** me shamelessly
bruise my skin so you cover up your lingering, gentle touch.
for i have loved you,
and heartbreak,
has been the worst pain of them all.

the term monster is jaded by experience.
a man in a torn mask,
wielding a knife is no longer a stereotype.
movies no longer scare you,
not when your own killer is down the hall;
stabbing away at your innocence,
stealing your purity,
hurting your very being because he can.

I have tasted fear,
Bubbling up my throat,
Wearing away the linings of my insides like a plea that I just can't manage to get out.
Something blocks it,
Courage.
It prevents me from yelling out,
Rather I push on,
I accept the awful taste in my mouth.

I have witnessed fear,
A sudden metallic feel,
Red slowly dropping onto the plush carpet,
Jagged breathing exposing the dark saturated mouth,
Clean the mess,
Cracked bloodstained lips wiped at like a messy chalkboard,
Erasing the anxiety away from the tip of my tongue.

I have heard fear,
Loud, languished cries,
Shrill screams like a school fire alarm reverberating down an empty corridor.
Shields rise up,
Connected to my clammy hands,
Sounds no longer penetrate my ears,
My internal drum stops beating to take a moments rest,
My heart beat is a loud mumble that is the only sound inside me.

I have felt fear,
Body tingling,
All over like a chilling gust of air rushing into a room.
It envelops me,
I can't move,
But my body shaking violently ,
Cease.
Accept,
Live in fear.

your grip was always cold and harsh,
it left bruises with colors of autumn leaves,
they were beautiful on my pale skin,
your eyes were enchanting,
a piercing blue that sparked like a faulty wire,
your ideas were wild,
as wild as your hair in the early morning,
as wild as your personality,
as wild as the look in your eyes when i mess up,
i know i have done something wrong,
but your love is warmth after you make me feel cold,
you tell me you love me,
your lips whisper promises i know you cant keep,
but you love me you say,
you say you mean it,
maybe that's why i stayed,
but your love was a lot to handle,
if the love you promised me was this damaging i wouldn't have stayed,
the pale technicolor bruises have spread,
my silence makes you happy,
that faulty wire that lit up with your passion is tied tight around my neck,
the blue color of your eyes has spread onto my skin,
i cant breathe,
untie the wire,
your wild ideas have gone too far this time,
i cant.
breathe.

On cold, October evenings, you can hear the rustling of leaves being blown by the wind.
Your neighbor's dog barking with an echo down the street.
The giggling of children as they play games under the glow of dim street lights.
You are not alone.

And then there's the sunset,
Colors grazing what is left of the autumn leaves on the trees,
it is time for you to situate yourself back into your home.
There's a quietness to your house; bodies lingering nearby but don't present themselves.
You scale the stairs that creak with each step like an eerie tune that brings brief life into the home.
Bristly fur of a cat brushes against your goose bumped skin.
You are not alone.

The stillness of your bedroom,
The hall light peeking through from under your closed door creating shadows in the darkness.
The light representing someone is still awake in the quiet house as you're trying to close your eyes and shut off your thoughts.
Quiet sobbing turned into hyperventilating as the blanket you're clutching, crumples as your grip tightens.
You feel cold and helpless fighting internally with the dark shadows making their way into your mind.
Your gasping breaths are abruptly stopped by the beat of rushed footsteps.

The swinging open of your door creates a wave of light that masks out the nothingness in your room.
Their arms wrapping tightly around your shaking body,
as you gurgle your fears out of your throat,
is that warmth you craved.
"You are not alone."

The radiant sun beating down on your porcelain skin cannot warm the coldness of your heart.

You're a dream, your face is a masterpiece and your eyes hold unlimited universes but the words that grace your blossom lips are venom.

They sink into my flesh like fangs and I'm wounded. Your presence is captivating and I'm haunted when you're not around but it's a heavy feeling.

You're unkind, spiteful and deceptive, a thesaurus cannot fully label the horrid personality you created for yourself. You were blessed with an angels face but you sinned my life with a devilish grin and the words that lured me in.

Your love was suffocating.

Your hands would contort my body,
Making my flesh pulsate and spine tingle with each grasp.

Your fingers left marks on my skin like blotches of blush on a flushed face. Colors hidden under dull sweaters, my fingertips found them throughout the day to remind me of those secrets you've harshly whispered in the dark.

Your voice was sharp,
for even when you were quiet I could hear its power in your eyes. One look in my direction and I felt frozen. Your eyes were a warm brown but they turned my blood cold.

Your love was so suffocating,
it killed me.

make your voice heard.

yell until the walls are vibrating.
chant until your ears are ringing.
shout until your head is red and pounding.
scream until they know your story.

for your voice is loud but silent in their ears.
your ideas are sharp but become dull when touched to each closed mind.
you are individually intelligent compared to the conforming unit.

yell harshly but listen humbly.
scream loudly but silently understand.
chant your message but be prepared for retaliation.

your truth is there and your case may be fair,
but no message is received when the deliverer is not competent enough to send it.

When you broke your nose, I remembered the sound so vividly.

The bones cracking reminded me of my old walks through the forest on a late autumn evening, making sure to crush the freshly fallen twigs on the ground.

Your pain became my reminisce of a childhood I thought I lost. You knew me too well without even trying and that actually scared me
You were my human diary, you unknowingly held my secrets and brought them out of me. You made me happy when I didn't want to be.

I felt innocent but aged when with you.
Your idiocy made me mature with sensibility but reminded me of a younger self.

I can't forget who I was when you're near and I'm starting to think that's not all that bad.

Your golden hair is tinted purple because of the way you're standing in the hue of the blinding lights.

    I don't know if that's my heart or the drum beat that's shaking my rib cage, stealing the air from my cigarette stained lungs, making me tear up either from pride or fear because of your alluring looks.

I may know this song like the back of my hand because ****,
I wrote it, but you're making me forget the words by just your one stare. My heart is bursting out of my chest, my fingers fumbling on the guitar strings but I play it off like an unexpected riff that gives a rise to the crowd like you're making the hair on my arms do.

you're so ******* beautiful.

To make this flow into your ears like a melody or translated flawlessly like a song, let me profess:
You take my  breath away.

What makes an animals  life more inferior to a humans?

Are the killings forgiven because the bond we share is broken from the missing link of communication?
Do we do it because their screams are silenced and the only way to hear horror is by looking into their eyes?

We **** before we understand. Humans themselves are still learning. There are things we don't understand, there are times we ***** up. Does that mean we're eligible for death?
No because we have a larger "meaning" in this life. We have jobs, pay bills and use our opposable thumbs for senseless tasks.
Does that make us superior?
No.

Elephants can paint
Monkeys play chess
Birds can sing
Animals can feel.

Tragedy is, ignorant people will only see the common bond they have with others is simply the soil we tread on.