I’ll walk clifftop.

Watch the sunrise fractured by a hundred different puddles, made whole again by the sea.

I’ll bleed peace and spill calm over ground that should’ve been cared for by now, and I’ll draw maps of the old season in battleship blue and a half-healed ****** crimson.

I’ll love them: Today they are mine.
Tonight I’ll give them away, and I’ll love them more.

I’ll walk clifftop.

I’ll pause. Watch the sunset rain copper-coins into a rolling-smoke sea, and I’ll miss him.

Can you hear me, can you feel me?
You can feel me
purple spiderwebs mark my *******
proving that you can
so if you can feel me why can't you hear me
i think i said no
i said no
but you're invading me still
unwelcomed visitor.
I closed the door and you don't have a key.
but you don't require one, do you
you have a lockpick. a lockpick on each finger.
the skeleton key on your tongue.

I picked the pieces
Put it back together,
Dragged the burden,
For sake of
What we had together?

Then why? Oh why?
Your love turned selfish,
Leaving me behind,
So you can flourish

Easy to throw away
The memories weaved
Past, present and future seed

Then why? Oh why?
Your love turned selfish,
Leaving this pigeon hole,
For mansion behold

Whispers of sweet nothings
An acidic reminder,
A betrayal painted,
With no remembrance

Bruises I cleared
Promises sweared,
Python to my eternal ores

Then why? Oh why?
Your loved turned selfish
When I’m carrying
A piece of you and me

I never believed in happy endings
My life was insipid until I met you
I first slept by the ocean under the stars with you
Once tangled in blue, I am now tangled with you

You filled the cracks in my skin with vibrant colours
And healed all my bruises with a simple touch
With you, my life is full of surprises and wonders
I am so full of love now, there's no space for any hatred or grudge

I think nobody understands the pain,
of living with constant fear.
I am tired of seeing women oppressed,
being hit, only bruises to show.
It is not okay to seal her lips then question,
why she took time to come out.
I will lose it if someone says that home
is where I'll be safe, oh I am not.
She is not, She is not, Oh she is not,
she is not, she is not, Oh I am not.

the gentle hands that wrap around my throat,
the decorative jewels of bruises,
the pale flesh that inspired poetry,
kissed by the silver blade
as i kneel in the scaffold

it’s been years, and I still scream
halfway through the night.

I still wake up drenched in sweat and tears,
feeling his grip around my wrist.

when I take a shower,  I find myself
still trying to scrub him off me.
I’m still trying to erase the
cigarette burn on my right hand,
the one he gave me when
he was drunk and angry.

sometimes, I scrub my skin until I bleed. not intentionally, of course.
I don’t want to hurt myself.
I’ve hurt myself enough over the years,
and I have the scars to prove it.

all I want is to scrub him off of me.
I want to feel clean again.

but no matter how raw I scrub myself,
the fingerprints and bruises still linger.