I like that you leave

hickies on my neck

instead of bruises on my heart

The sky is old, it is tired.
It is aching.

The sky is bruised.
It is blackest blue and deepest blood purple.
It is tearing and writhing and mashing.
It is molded by someone
who knows not of their own power for desire.

It is being destroyed and created at the same time,
it is being pushed and pulled and grabbed
by hands who have known little of gentleness
and have been overcome by violence
but are trying to be soothing.

Hands made for wielding swords
steadfast give up when attempting to weave flowers together.

But he has not given up.

He is immobilized-
lost in his own despair and pain
as he tries to create.
He is searching through things he doesn't quite understand
searching through himself
and his own power he has left untapped for many a year.

He is trying-
hoping to help build a world
where love knows no bounds
and hate is only as strong as those
feeble hearts who use it.

The End of Time has already passed,
and no one can see past it
no one knows whether he will succeed.
But they do know
that he will continue to try
to press on
until the last whisper of his soul is gone from this world.

I am waiting for the day
when we can all celebrate
as one people
united behind
he who tore the sky
and lifted it up again,
anew.

Those bad days come
The days were getting out of bed shouldn’t be an option
Were looking at everyone can’t be a choice
But you have to smile for the camera
Everyone is looking at you
While you see that moment
That moment of being on a bus with a friend
A friend that took your friendliness for flirting
A friend that decided to play fight with you
But play fighting turned into something more
Into something you wished it didn’t
He kissed you
You didn’t want or intend for that to happen
You didn’t know what to do
You’re paralyzed
As you tell him no, he tries play fighting again
You reject that too
But in the end, he bites your arm
And now you are stuck with the feeling of teeth on you
The feeling that you still have the bruise
A bruise that you had to hide from your family members
A bruise that symbolized
“You are broken”
You get stuck wearing anything but a normal shirt
No one questions it...but yourself
You can feel the pain
You can see yourself crying all over again
You can feel the hug that your teacher gave you when they found out
That teacher helped you more than anyone
That teacher took care of you in your time of need
That teacher was your parent because you couldn’t show them your bruise
You can feel the nothingness that came out of that experience
You can hear the whispers
The whispers of blame toward you
The whispers of “they asked for it”
No you didn’t ask for it
All you asked for was a friend
A friend to sit next to
A friend to stay close to, so you wouldn’t get lost
But in the end you got more lost
If anything, you got lost and betrayed
Within minutes before and after that first kiss
But you still feel that bruise, even after it’s gone
You feel where their teeth sunk in on your skin
That part of your skin remembers every nerve being in pain
Your muscles remembering tensing up right when it happened
That friend marked you
For what, because you were friendly
Because you gave them attention they hardly got
Who’s to say,
All you know is that you had a bruise and a bad memory on that bus
A memory that haunts you till this day
A memory you wished would just disappear
Just like the bruise
That friend got in trouble
With a slap on the wrist
And everyone on their side
You are the one at fault
You started the whole thing
But you are the one with the wounds
You were too friendly, everyone said
How could that have mattered
When you are now bruised on the inside
Where their teeth were

It takes a week to heal the bruises.
It takes an eternity
to heal the bruise in my heart.

The eye of my blood blinks crimsons
And sweat thick nuggets of gold

It glistens through sheens of purple
And flickers when it be so bold

It throbs with pulses of grayness
So stricken in pain and sore

It ravages pitches of black
And swallow it dark even more

prosperity comes in…
prosperity comes…

she comes in...

shades of black and blue,

like bruises
when you hit me and tug on my hair,
and like
apples that ripen and then soften...

Breathe in, breathe out
I close my eyes and picture us
If God can look down on us, what would He say?

I am a ghost ship, lost at sea
I dream about your lips,
I have set my anchor.

Come closer, pull me in
Do you ever think of me?
Or am I just skin, flesh, and lust?

I touch you with my fingertips
And I make three thousand small wishes,
Each for every freckle, every lie.

You laugh like stars,
And I cry like the ocean,
Will I ever be loved?

Breathe in, breathe out
Add one more, to my bruises
My ship can no longer sink.