They reached behind my sternum, wrapped their hands around my heart, and attempted to strangle it. I pried their aching hands away, and I tore my bleeding heart in half. One half shaped itself into bread, and the other half fermented into wine. My eyelids slowly came together as I let the holy water wash over me. My words consecrate the communion, and I bless it for people to consume so we remember that we're not alone.
Escapril Day 9! The prompt was "we're not alone," and I thought about communion, which is what Christians consume every week. It is considered the Body and Blood of Jesus Christ. My family is Christian, and I am questioning the beliefs I have been raised with. Some life events and growth have led me to think differently, and I want to be skeptical in a healthy way. Faith has been on my mind due to these reasons. I also do not intend to mock Christianity; I was inspired by the religion to write this poem. I believe writing and sharing helps us remember we're not alone. I truly hope my poems help in that way for everyone who reads them 💗
Vines wrap round their trees until There is no bark left to see. Flowers will drink and get their fill But too much and it's a tragedy. Often when a storm's too strong Away any foundations are blown And are lost to the winds for much too long - Won't you please leave me alone?
The weeds strangle the neighbour roots Of flowers just trying to bloom They quell the reach of nearby shoots Til they are driven to their doom. Locusts once came and blocked the light And blood drowned the rivers red. Why won't you see that we are not right And you should find someone else instead?
Distancing herself away, from the so called 'Love'. This Love that everyone praises and admires. This Love that people always desire.
Love. He said it was Love too. The kisses, the presents. That was all his Love. But so were the arguments, the fights. Love was chaos. But doesn't everyone want Love. To feel Love, at least once? And so she fell for it. For his mysterious gaze. For his slight smile. For the Love that he offered.
But the innocent hugs came to an end. That was not enough. His greed wanted more. Wanted the satisfaction from this Love. So when he held her against her will, and called it Love, She felt ashamed for crying. Ashamed for asking him to stop, Ashamed for saying no. But that did not stop him. Because in his eyes, it was Love.
Love. The excuse he used to hurt her. To abuse her. To destroy her. And she remained silent. Isolating herself from those that could help. How could she hate him if he was doing it out of Love? How could she leave when all it was - was Love?
The heaviness on my chest, the strangled breaths stinking of wafting toxicity, the bloodstains on my hands from a ****. My mind is whirling, and I wonder if this is it if this is insanity distorted past reality if I am truly lost in this labyrinth of twisted smiles and white lies if I have finally finally turned myself into a monster.
Time has its hands around my neck, strangling me. A diamond clock around my neck like Flavor Flav, hanging off me, pulling my head down to the dirt.
The tortuous second, an arduous minute I grind my teeth at the passing hour. I squeeze each passing day, holding tightly, but it always escapes between my fingers, liquefying and dripping through, evaporating.
Wake and pace, I wake and begin to pace. Weaving a trail through the leaves at my feet, the meadow floor becoming my revolving door with only one exit, a blinking red sign flashes, its arrow pointing directly down imprinting itself in my pupil.
Sing the song of the day! Whether it be swaying morning Jazz or a night owls rhythmic hoots, sing it loud and let it ring, for you never know the last song you will sing.
Walk in circles, hum the tone, whatever it takes to get you past that glaring sun high in the sky at each passing noon.