a dusky walk through the middle of the park clear of the shadows of branch and leaf at its edges the only light stretched out but struggling from distant lamp posts or the yet more distant halo of moon breaching cloud it is enough to plot a route by but not with confidence
a leather flapping overhead tells tale of bats in their erratic yet assured flight abhorred by many perhaps for that very reason; unpredictable unflinching not flying the expected path
I know myself better than you. In my heart there is a banshee waiting to drown themselves on the shores of a beach covered in discarded glass. Her body ragged, bruised, and gaunt in every view. She’s sharp and harsh with every cut that may pass. Her hair obscures her eyes with a taupe wash of strands. She pierces into the tiny drums with a venom only meant to break my spirit and erode past the bones. Into my soul she will cut with those talons on her hands. I can’t progress without her because she is my cornerstone. My foundation would collapse without her haunting inside. She’s seen my cracks and my missing parts. Instead of leaving me numb she waters my plants. Together we craft love and we create art. She raised the goblin in my head to laugh and dance. He leads us through her pain. It’s something that helps me smile no matter how heavy the rain. He swallows the flames we light each day or eliminates the obstacles in our way. His skin so full and flushed; It contrasts so greatly with her hair unbrushed. His eyes so clear, bright, and colorful. I can feel the joy radiate so extensively. What he gives so soft like the silky breeze she echoes back with a call so guttural. I always valued him more so selfishly. There would be no him without her. There would be no parts in me without the parts I don’t prefer. So before you tell me that I’m intense or too much; I hope you see how important they both are inside. They are more than the things you can see or touch. They are every laugh that I’ve had or every tear that I’ve cried. I don’t need you to believe that I am the right amount between too much and just enough for you. I believe in my own beauty and wholeness; we all do.
I care more about my opinion of myself than I do of theirs
They said I should’ve chopped off my trust They said I was too old to believe in fairytales They said i was the dust queen in your castle They said i was your unchosen card They slammed the door of my broken faith And left me sicker than ever Her voice was louder than my prayer Her face kept haunting my hopeless hour Her lips were my bitter desire And her name was my pen’s new lover Hey you I said show me the way to a merciful deceit If i was destined to die frozen in your icy heart I pled you to bury me in a cavern of lies Hey you Couldn’t you picture my agony Poetry has become my dearest enemy Done with my unchanging melancholy Hey, do you remember I married your demons I ate your anger I was willing to die for your life I drew with you our thirteenth melody I trusted your puzzling gaze When you whispered hug me closer I gave in but you weren’t all in Hey you I knew It was another cruel masquerade As always I was the victim of another maniac game Your words ruined my illusion You drowned it in the ocean of depression I thought I’d be your salvation But i was still an ugly slave Who couldn’t speak your narration You locked me in a silent cage You burned my heart You thought you could quench it with your valley of apathy But I was a loner in your world Hey you You told me that I’m the dream of thousands of men Thanks god I’m not yours The flood of my eyes is completely dry I almost forgot the savor of my slash Winter is sunny and so do my heart My patience is wearing thin No more drama Vengeance isn’t my language But I’m having fun with karma Who’s the next crow who’s willing to break me down I won’t say I’m not at the age of this ******* Rather I’m not on the level of those who’re sheepish Love isn’t on my to do list Scorpio is my name And before knocking on my door Know that I’ve got no room for narcissists in my empire
I’m a Scorpio woman , vulnerable but stronger than ever
I could never love myself through the male gaze, every part of me dissected into something that is nothing objectified and dismembered into significantly insignificant categories criticized, and ostracized from humanly functions only to be put on display as a mannequin.
there may or may not exist certain colours that the human eye is unable to see an insipid blueish-yellow an unpalatable greenish-red each said to be impossible for our eyes to process; if seen it could appear in all manner of forms but would remain indescribable
they say that butterflies can see the ultraviolet spectrum and that the honey bee sees in infrared; and so it would not be too absurd for a person to dismiss the "impossible" to believe in the possibility of the as-yet unseen
although scientifically the only way to perceive these "forbidden" hues is through trickery and constraint by forcing the brain into seeing both antagonistic colours simultaneously and without reprieve until the border between the opposing shades finally dissolves
there may be a truth but it is hidden somewhere between the plausible yet impalpable and the proven yet proselytised