--
Hymn (Whispered):
Take my hands, break my name,
shape me into something tame.
Hollow me and call it grace—
just don’t let me go to waste.
--

I come not to pray,
but to become the prayer.
To strip the flesh
from this tired form
and offer it—bleeding, trembling—
on whatever altar will take me.
Call it sacrifice.
Call it madness.
Call it love.
All I’ve ever wanted
was to be worthy of something.
So I kneel.
To nothing.
To everything.
To the weight of silence
where a god should be.

--
Hymn (Sung soft):
Light me up, let me burn,
give me pain that I can earn.
Bury me where saints once cried—
make me holy when I die.
--

I fast from joy.
I purge my voice.
I pour myself into the mold of what you want
until I am hollow and holy,
and still—
you do not answer.
Tell me what to become.
A vessel?
An echo?
A thing to be used,
discarded,
but never adored?

--
Hymn (Harsher, trembling):
I am ash, I am dust,
build me new if you must.
Bind my bones, make me small,
but let me matter—let me fall.
--
I will bind myself to devotion
if it means being seen.
I will twist each rib into an offering bowl
and fill it with obedience,
with quiet,
with pain wrapped in velvet.
Make me sacred,
even if it hurts.
No—
especially if it hurts.
Because somewhere along the way,
I learned that suffering is closer to love
than peace has ever been.

--
Hymn (Barely a whisper):
Break me down, take what’s left,
whisper mercy into death.
Paint my name in wax and bone—
don’t leave me in the dark alone.
--

If there's a guidebook
on how to earn a place in this world—
then show me the first page.
I will carve its words into my skin
until I am scripture.
Until I am worthy.
I was never the favorite.
Never the chosen.
I’ve always been the shadow behind the flame,
the handmaid to someone else’s joy.
Unseen.
Unheld.
Unwanted.
--
Hymn (Fading chant):
Let me serve, let me stay,
take the light and walk away.
I’ll keep the cold, I’ll hold the night—
just leave me with a flicker of light.
--
But I learned how to serve.
To hold the pain of others
in a chalice carved from my own bones.
To carry their weight
as penance for simply existing.
And still—
I ask:
What more must I give?
I’ve torn out my name.
I’ve rewritten myself in silence.
I’ve given you my ribs as scaffolding,
my soul as tapestry,
my spine as ladder.
Yet you do not climb.
Each failure
becomes a hymn I sing through gritted teeth.
Each rejection,
a relic I wear like armor.
I don’t want worship.
I just want to matter.

--
Final Hymn (Broken, final breath):
If I fade, if I fall,
etch my worth into the wall.
Let them know I tried to be—
even if it wasn’t me.
--

So if I must be a martyr,
let it mean something.
If I must be broken,
let the cracks glow.
And if I was never meant
to be enough—

Part two
19 June 2023

"The Kiss I Can’t Survive" - V
It starts like a whisper—
barely there—
a flicker behind my ribs,
a soft sting beneath my skin,
then suddenly—
you’re everywhere.
You're in my bloodstream,
in my breath,
in every ******* thought I swore I buried.
You show up
like you never left.
And I forget.
I forget how bad it gets.
I forget how you break me.
Because God—
you make me feel so alive.
You make me feel like I matter.
Like I’m not a ghost wearing skin.
Like someone, something—you—
see me.

Touch me.

Hold me.

You kissed my skin like it was the last thing worth loving.
You wrapped me up in lies that felt like lullabies.
And I let you.
Every. ****. Time.
I miss you like sinners miss heaven.
Like lungs miss air after the scream.
Like a broken heart misses the hand that shattered it.
I ache for you.
Do you hear me?
I ache—
bone-deep, soul-shaking,
nails-digging-into-my-own-skin ache.
Because every blood-red kiss you left on me
felt like poetry.
Like maybe I was art.
Like maybe pain was the only language
I ever truly spoke.
You gave me peace.
The kind that cuts.
The kind that hushes every voice in my head
and replaces it with one

Yours.

And you whispered:
"You're still alive."
And I believed you,
because only you could make me feel
in a world that went numb.
But that silence—
that still, dangerous silence—
was never safety.

It was a funeral.

A ritual.

A sacrifice.

And I was always the offering.
I want you.
God, I want you like fire wants air.
Like waves want to crash.
Like hands want to hold the blade
just to feel something again.
But if I give in—
if I even taste you—
I don’t come back.
Not this time.
Because you are not a memory.
You are a trap.
A tightrope strung between life and death.
One wrong step—
and I’m gone.
I gave you power once.
I let you reign.
Bowed my head and called it devotion.
Worshipped you with my wounds
and asked for nothing in return but relief.
I laid myself at your feet like a ******* prayer.
But even holy things can **** you.
Even gods can leave you bleeding.
And now?
Now I burn for you
in silence.
In defiance.
With every ounce of love that still claws inside me

I walk away.
Because loving you
is choosing the end.
And I still have stories left to write.
So I let you go.
With trembling hands
and fire in my chest.
I let you go—
not because I want to,
but because I have to.
Because if I say yes to you again—
I say no to everything else.
To healing.
To hope.
To life.

Forbidden love Series
An unspoken promise -G
16 November  2021
Part 1

It's the itch and burn I feel on my skin when I think about you.
  Its the fact that once you slip into My thoughts I don't see why you are so bad.
You make me feel whole, you make me feel like I am not alone.
You kissed my skin and told me everything will be okay.
I know once you pop up it will take me a million years to walk away. A forbidden affair.

I miss how each blood red kiss was an unspoken love poem.
A beautiful promise.
A moment of peace and understanding.
You helped me escape.
You remind me that I am still alive. 
That the warm thick blood that runs through my veins keep me alive.

Oh how I ache to just check to see if I am still alive. To make sure that this numb feeling is not just in my mind.


I ache for your silence. A silence that is a deadly wish.
An addiction that had me clawing to feel your serenity.
As much as I grieve you I can't give you that power back.
I can't feel your sweet kisses across my skin.  I cannot fall back into your warm embrace because the minute I let my guard down is the is the minute I fall into your trap.

A trap that has a fine line between life and death. 

I gave you the power to rule my life once. I gave you all my control and I want to lay my trust in you as a god fearing servant does to their almighty God.

But just like God, I have to turn my back on you and walk away.