You’re the painter
and
I am the canvas

You mix blues
and purples
into my skin

Your brushes
are the fists
of a flawed
childhood

I am the pale canvas
of
love

I am patient
as your anger
swells

I wait for
your artwork
to form along
my skin

This is sick
I know
But all I can
say is

“Paint me
and
Make me beautiful” -DDF

When I lean into
you

my God

how my nostrils quiver

for the smell of
you is
so human
-DDF

CBW: Broken nails claw hollow eyes,
Lifeless breath gasps slow demise,
Stifled are my solemn cries,
Forever failed, my many tries
To work my way out of this rut, this godforsaken hole, but like dust upon rock bottom are the fragments of my soul.
The pent up pressure, the murky waters of creative flow,
Now soaks the floors like poisoned blood,
A concentrated woe.
Alas, the shadows,
my sunken home,
It's where I'm told I should belong,
And you expect a simple answer when you ask me what is wrong..

DDF: To expect a simple answer
when I ask,
"What is wrong?"
is an accusation burning in rhythm
of songs
For I know depression can be
miles long

Show me the enemy you've
fought for too long
depression
I know is strong

Show me what I can
do just to keep you

Show me the empty shell
you have stuffed yourself
into
For I promise I can mend you

Show me the animal chained
inside of you
Because I have one too

Show me the late night screams
For I can see your sadness ripping
at happiness' seams

Don't be afraid to show
me all of you

Let me help you build upon
this sadness that has consumed
all intentions of something
new

Together who knows what we could
do?

CBW: A crack in the ceiling, exposing a light?
A call from the heavens to let me know it's alright?
This twang on my heartstring,
Resonates deep inside,
Yet, why does the strummer think her good side should hide?
Her music consumed
what once writhed in the shade,
The musical beauty was who my demons obeyed,
Yet my demons are different from the ones some portrayed,
But you can easily soothe them, if only you played.
Although the music is for me, it's played for another,
You're stuck in a sort of limbo for a lover,
And it's hard to hear from rock bottom, to the top of your tower,
The music is faint unless you give it more power.
I'll be here, filling this rut with my tears, wishing that your music could reach my ears.

DDF: I watch you struggle
trying, trying
to pull yourself from the
bottom

I look down in despair
for I know this in itself
is not fair

A god I would never bring myself
to bow to
whispers of redemption in single-
minded tongue
catching my attention

My mouth opens without a warning
spewing out prayers from night until
morning

This is not music, my dear
these are my words laced with
your fear

I watched her crumble into
my hands like
the Earth’s crust

her death wish
had become a mass
I could no longer break apart

this Pangea of emotion
that I couldn’t save her from
was on our minds every
waking moment

She was swimming in a puddle
but to her it was the Atlantic
and
the continents were holding her
under

But
any archaeologist
who tried to extract
this skeleton
from the dust of
her mind was
indeed
foolish
-DDF

She had yet to realize
that the destruction
swimming in her veins
would form

continents along her skin

oceans in her eyes

a world in her heart

just to crumble the creations
when her love
reached out for
a taste

-DDF

I want to feel
the clink of your
teeth against mine
when your kisses
were too rough
for my rose-petaled lips

I want your fingertips
to trace the scars lining
my thigh while your
mouth explores the
terrain I myself
have yet to cultivate

I want you to find happiness
in the intimate crevices
of my body
that have yet to
hear the words:
“You’re beautiful.”
muttered and caught in
them for safe-keeping

I want this moment

here

forever

to attach itself to
my being so I can
at least remember
you at your most
vulnerable

and not when you
vanish into the
gray dawn that always
held ghosts for me -DDF

She loved when they
made love
and her heart
would peak

She loved the kisses he
planted upon her
cheeks

She loved the lazy
afternoons spent
in the Sunday
sheets

She loved the hands
that could make
her high
without any measure

She made no mention
of
her guilty pleasures

With each day she
would have never
guessed that
he would make her
pay

The bruises he left
were contradictions
to the kisses he
had once planted

The lazy afternoons
were filled with screaming
and *** without
love

But she stayed

She stayed

Why did she stay?

-DDF