any one person can withstand pain.
But there is a subtle difference.
When it isn't registered..
Like a dream that alludes the recently awoken.
For the moment is always questioned as fiction when it comes about.
As if building a freeway over the desolation would bypass the isolated incident.
With every pass does it become so.
And yet it is ever so aparrent.
Like a splinter made of ice.
For when the initial trauma fades.
Making every other impalement go unnoticed.
Picking at old scars with phantom limbs.
Visible only to other ghouls.
Which have sadly become the only contact available.
And neither the shadow nor the image it belongs to are recognizable.
And this room full of strangers gains an addition to its ever changing painting.
One that will inevitably be painted over.
For it has become not only a constant.
But a certainty.
One that will be upheld.
Regardless if this hand helps it.
they just stood,
rooted to their ground
killing the state of our mental vice
into such sinful cries
what has kept us breathing since
feels almost dead by now
how can we not leave our rooms
so soberly sad
to such peculiar repellency
that lives within in our souls too
s-these aren't words to say in church.
A flower bloomed in your hair as I
I loved you. your
chest rose up to my face as i lay,
you had taken my breath away.
The tattered book scattered through
my mind as you whisper
into the night’s ears.
I remember winning bible study challenge
in fifth grade
then losing my faith in eighth,
I can honestly now say,
you calling out my name
you calling out his name
brought me back.
Cherry blossoms from slumber awaken,
As she passes by in blithe, lissome grace,
Only to fall to ground, souls forsaken,
To that mesmerising smile on her face.
Stars adorn her shapely neck as diamonds,
The pale moonlight her fair countenance be,
Rubies glowing from western horizons,
Cast a fleeting blush on those cheeks shyly.
I bow down low to this divine spectre,
Trampled blossoms by her feet are Incense,
Hitherto abandoned pen, gold Sceptre,
Myrrh of heart’s blood, become my obeisance.
From the God Himself I seek forgiveness,
For, my verses have made love to His Goddess
where do hearts go
without them breaking too loudly
after baring one’s soul
killing their only gut
but ended up writing letters
to one’s self
where can we reset
such one-sided emotion
before the demons take over
the walk with us
to their hellish pit