They watch my lavish fall
Hungrily
Lips gnashing together
Grinding teeth in anticipation
Its the only sound I hear
As I slip through the abyss

I blame them
partly
With their eyes scanning upwards
Fixated on the throne
Waiting for the day
They’ll look down on the rest of us

Now today has arrived
And they marvel in what I’ve become
What I've lost
Who am I now
Surely not this creature
Cracked mask on a sunken ship

Blood streams from my temples
Tormenting thoughts cannot be contained
In the mere encompass of my mind
They hug the curve of my cheekbones
And slip on my lower lip

Inviting me to speak them
Inviting me to scream them

All while the parasite keeps digging
Tunnelling deeper and deeper
Up the underbelly of my wrist

Marinated in pain
I’m covered in it
I sway to one side
And it streams down my chest
Catching in the nook of my breast
The liquid spreads
My body becoming a riverbed
I can barely glimpse
The underbelly of my wrist
The source
The swell
Where anguish has pooled
It took only two bandages
To have them fooled

Emptiness envelops me
My body is drained
Only the dripping of my wrist
Keeps me awake
When will it end
When will your haunting cease
Inside, there's nothing left
Nothing but my second skin
The pain i've been marinated in

Time spent with you
is
like a novel, each day a new page
Memories linger on past lines
I re-read them when I think of you

Some parts make me laugh out loud
Others, I blush and grin
Until
I stop and think of what could of been
if you weren’t  so far away....

But that doesn’t matter
This book keeps
ongoing
unfolding
continuing...it’s unfinished and I want to keep it that way

I won’t let distance break it’s binding
I won’t let it’s pages fall apart, the same ones I fought so hard to keep
I don’t want “us” to become just another book on my self where I’ve reached the final chapter.

But our love becomes stronger
This novel of ours becomes longer
So there’s no pretending....
I hope this book is never-ending

I got my room painted today; my old walls were scarred, chipped,   worn...memories
But the past is in the past, the paint has already  dried. So why can't I forget? Why can I still hear them, the memories echoing through the room like restless spirits.
I just have one question, if I peeled back a coat or two, would the scars beam with pride? And would the walls still bear the scars proudly?

I guess a new coat will be good.... still underneath the glaze of perfection, the scars are still hiding and the walls are still whispering...
Yet I will remember,
only
me

Mother always said that the beautiful ones were the most broken
But maybe the broken ones are the most beautiful..