If love had ever had an antidote, then it would be all the words that we never spoke; buried by the linguistic silence of our throats.
Few are the poems that I have wrote, yet the pens might as well be Chinese, that I have broke. Our love was once an eagle's wings, custom made to sing hymns whilst we sinned; like mere children, so impassioned by any and everything - Now love is the yoke, both burdensome and binding.
I am thinking of all the words that I never got to say; all of the letters and apologies, only published within my brain.
'Love is the only antidote', he said 'I am also on antibiotics', she wrote on a paper napkin. 'I wanna kiss you love', he whispered. Looking in his eyes, adjusting her mask she slid the Off shoulder, a little more.
I could write a maze Of metaphors for you Just to let you know How amazing you are I could tell you that Your smile is the sun, Sunshine painted on your face Or tell you that your Kindness is a language I wish to speak fluently Your eyes are an ocean I could swim in for miles And you are a rose That blooms with each season Your lips are the antidote For every frog I've kissed And your voice is a melody That knows the song of my heart But I dare not say these to you For my heart is scared I'll keep them to myself These feelings I would Rather not share
I'll keep them to myself, these feelings I would rather not share
'choosing to remain Impervious until the reflected familiarity enters the body by connecting, presenting the vast realm of awareness - the unbearable lightness of being floats into the atmospheric sound. vibrating deeply to souls core...are he and I still impervious to others... all the while the dark familiar perched watching our transformation '
with empathy, i understand as we began the third act, the moment of ******* ... fingers at my throat he would take command.
encased in a tough outer skin from years of pressing down...of squeezing... his own pain transmuting through the pressure. pushing the anger and hurt back into his own body.
layer upon layer of scar tissue, release of the useless agony the poison trapped below the surface.
knowing was present when I stood beside him. as the ritual began, vermilion borders grazing, lips, ivory snarling over my skin
i pleaded for just a few moments and denial did not come.
one. two. three...i counted. waiting for the sacred sensation. exploding inside this realm of physical boundaries he filled the vacancy in my heart with each movement.
in perfection, gasping as he penetrated
pushing me down into the space, thrusting essence of his being into me, touching the awareness of my mirrored imperviousness his intensity pulled me into the void we launched, penetrating our exterior skin...knowingly allowing the shedding to begin.
puncturing his thick skin, my fangs drew out the poison... into my body it flowed.
the antidote is him. my death was a whim to my surprise the antidote is him. ~7Au17 Rachael Hays Published 2Ja20