hope aches
it’s a feeling that yearns for positivity
while ripping at emotions from the inside.
it’s a spell that needs just enough pain to create a final happiness.
hope craves,
starving yourself to get just a bite.

Fairy tales have always had an antagonist;
an evil witch or vengeful pirate,
plotting against the beloved hero,
but not all stories are realistic.
There are villains out to get you,
but they can be a lot closer than a broom ride away.
The ones glaring with glowing eyes from the shadows emerge
and you recognize that reflection.

Sometimes the one preventing you from completing a task,
celebrating a victory,
or capturing the damsel.
Is because the distress is yours
and the hand locking it away can be your own twisting the key.

Growing up there was chaos reshaping the love;
it was the cycle that gave us our dynamic.
A single thing acted like a looming shadow as it circled our warm home.
It would **** them one by one into its cold smog.
I grew used to its presence;
making me numb to its touch.
I had to settle the rest of their souls by ridding them of the darkness.
I was young but I understood pain;
I saw it in their eyes,
heard it behind a smile,
and felt it with the lingering touch -
longing to be comforted.
Eventually, the shadow turns to light.
The pain dissolved,
but I still remember every situation I made right -
the memories of the darkness still live inside me.

the only way I could ever love myself is if I can look with rose colored glasses
but my vision is clear; lenses untinted and I can see all that I bare.

Even though
      It's been years,
Whenever I see fireworks
     I think of you.

I fell in love with a demonic woman.
I knew her claws would scar me,
her touch would burn,
her eyes would betray the words spit from her lips.
She sold her soul to the devil,
and I gave up my heart for her.

some of your words may unwilt my image,
but it is my mind that plants seeds in my core,
my heart sprouts buds,
and my soul creates blooming bouquets.

Your candy land was amazing at first,
a sickly sweet that gradually made me feel worse.
You eventually turned bitter and ****,
right around the time you were ready to rip out my heart.

Twisted thoughts escape his dry, cherry red lips; cracked, koolaid stained skin that admit to traumatic events unfolded.

I can’t peel my eyes away from his pale figure; a contrast to his orange get up.

The words smoothly falling out of his mouth, send shivers down my spine.
No one would consider his brain is rattling off recounts of that night while his inner friends help him remember the picture of her body that is burned into his brain- a contorted mind exposed.

Cooked flesh is the aroma he gives off and I gag, he stole my love and her smell still lingers; taunting me of an instance where I couldn’t be a hero.

The gavel pounds down and the cloaked man declares his fate.
As the newly added cold metal traps him into a life of isolation, he looks at me.
His ****** lips curl into a sneer as he is hauled back to hell.