Being honest can either go two ways.
You can have everything,
or you can have nothing at all.

I was waiting for my heart to ache again
So I could put it into words
So I simply recalled you face again
And needed no further efforts.

I was waiting for my heart to ache again
So I could bleed out on the paper
Some things I know I'll never say out loud
In these yellow pages, they will sleep safer.
A.S.

A writer that's
sincere with
words, A broken
heart that bleeds,
Yet beauty flows
from the ink,
from a gentle & kind
soul indeed, for it is
the kind ones that bleed.
~SacredInkedBlood ©2020
@Author Ven J. Arnold
https://m.facebook.com/VenjencieCliftonArnold

i hold the poetry within me i feel it within my bones and it burrows within my soul but i can't write and my fingers won't work. i need to speak and i need to let someone in. this is not something i can just tell with my pen.

The stars shine bright

as the moon emits light

It's all prettier than I write




I write about depression

My obsessions

and my daily confessions




It's easier to write

than to fight

most of the time




I write by candlelight

or so I wish

I instead write by a LED light

The one I bought on wish

but that's not the important bit




The sun & the moon

will always upstage

this fool

after all,

they're too

**** beautiful

my womanhood
is a loaded pistol
and many men have tried
to wrestle it
from me

the piano you played for me
their keys light like the sun
in your eyes gently playing me
a song we wrote between shared cups
of tea, picked flowers in the field
shoved into a pocket always big enough to fit
both of our hands.

In the evening having inked his feather
He engenders beauty line by line,
Writes a manuscript that joins together
Ice and fire, darkness and sunshine.

He is looking for his lot no longer,
But he strikes the lyre on the stage,
Showing humankind that love is stronger
Than injustice, enmity and rage;

It is more than life and nonexistence,
It can give downhearted people wings,
Neither flow of time nor any distance
Can destroy love’s harp and tear its strings.

He narrates that standards and traditions
Put sometimes a lot of lives at stake,
And that human honor and ambitions
Should exist for other people’s sake.

Every moment of his life he's ready
To amaze his audience and thrill.
Many centuries have passed already,
But he still creates and always will.

I slipped and fell from reality
Going down, I saw the silhouette
of myself waving back from the cliff of reality
getting smaller and smaller

My fall carved the air
with a bundle of chaos
dense with fear
and weightlessness at the same time

I am lost
between letting go and wanting to go
everybody goes at some point anyway  
between waving goodbye to what's better
and saying hello to what's bad
between loving to love, and loving being loved
or both,
I am lost between loneliness and aloneness
between confidence and bitchiness
between opening my heart and keeping it
and giving it to you, naked, want it?
between sobriety, and faking it
I am scared of changing and I am attracted to change
of walking away, when walking is my favorite hobby
I fear losing something, when there was nothing to begin with
I am addicted to turmoil, I lather my skin with recklessness
I inject my veins with the soothe intoxicating taste
instability
I question my lust for instability for chaos
for heartbreak and heart-mend
for unreciprocated love, for ... everything that doesn't make sense
I question my fabrication of a future, before I even say hi.

I am confidence wrapped in anxiety, that wears me like a gala dress
hugging my curves, with self-doubt
I am fake, a hypnotized being, programmed to smile
to blend, to speak less, to love less, love like that,
to compare, to compete
I am tired