We created this fever, a rush of bloodlust caught between the darker sides of our souls collision. A bleed of infamy pouring into sidewalk cracks, a absence of rain to wash our shamed skin or the pavements stained with our memory. Drinking from the darkest parts of our weeping bones, we find suffering together beautiful. Leaving love notes on each other’s chest, worn as scarlet letters, learning to love the shades of red against our colorless lives. Painting words on lips & staining dreams where we meet in shitty bars only to drink from one another’s lips. Drunk on thoughts & high within each other’s fractured eyes, we wipe the tears sweetly & call ourselves a mess. We hold hands & our fingers spark, the rubbing of winter bones hungry for a thaw after a summer spent without each other’s comfort. We take in every moment as if time were a gift from angry Gods, defying fate & calling our minutes a lifelong dream. We sit in silence, our dark hearts meet between eyes & stories we will tell in our next life, where we lived beyond paper skin & sin. We refuse the thoughts of heaven, for how could stars shape the sky & not hold us perfectly suspended in each other’s arms. We curse the night as the moon turns to kiss the sun good morning as we have whispered all the mornings before this night was set. We close our eyes, knowing we live within each other’s skin & morning will hold our empty sheets & heartbeats after we begged hell for one day spent,escaping the what if. So we hold each other for seconds more, as the day breaks & touches our face with the warmth of the sun but not each other’s hold. We open our eyes to the nightmares that we live wide awake & wait for that next good morning text… So we can breathe again.We live in our twisted world of obsession & addiction spilled into a insatiable mess.For I never believed in God until I heard my name leave his lips, as a prayer
Still chasing the cedar waters of the pines with ghost, holding hands with memories better left in the woods. Where my soul was once clean & untouched by the crumbling churches and stained glass choices, running from the life of a preachers voice. Sleeping on altars through services, wearing shame as a dress made of the dirtiest linen, lips blood soaked in mercy, never tasted.
Left with handprints on white skin from altar boys who couldn’t resist kissing behind wooden pews, their vile fingers tracing the hem of my skirt, staining my flesh in sin. Staring into the eyes of the devil & daring his intentions because that’s what preachers daughters do. Pressed against the fountain where souls were once washed clean in baptism, now tarnished by dirty hands and missing skirts. Washing my mouth out with the unclean water, promising never to do it again.
We all rebel from the day we are born, cursing our life and assuming we deserve to touch sky with delicate fingertips, yet I have never known nothing more intimate than lying to myself & drenching my salvation in shame, while the good Lord watched. Father always said, I was kissed by the devil, little did he know I was hell bent & marked by the flames. I still taste his bone & ash every time I drink from God’s fountain with empty eyes.
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I found you Tucked
between each word
My fingers trembling
As I scrawled across each syllable
Every ounce of raw form
Hidden beneath the page
Stirring bones that slept
My eyes shed salt stains
Down cheeks untouched
Lips not kissed
All the fears
Whispering To be read
Through skipped lines
Of all the words
Your heart bleeds
Your mouth does not speak
For fear of losing
Of a masterpiece”
– I am your shelter
“It was if a thousand bees crawled beneath my heart, creating a buzz from the very start. The feel of their wings as they tickled my lungs and breezed by my throat. A tickle, a hum of pure delight… A feeling I felt long into the night. Laying honey in veins, sticky and sweet, coating my heart in the richness of golden promise, allowing love to stick to the untouched places~”
The buzz of bees
I. Don’t sweep me off my feet, I’m not that type of girl. Take a grip and grab my dark soul, rip it from my chest and show me what mercy is. Hold on, white knuckles, refuse to let me go. II. She is not fragile, a bloom not yet composed. Fire ignited her , forged in steel, tattered but still whole. Cares not for the pretty things, keep your pearls. Give her darkness, show her what light truly is. Reach down … Expose her for who she really is.
III. Let her be, wild and carefree. Allow her to swallow your imagination and create poetry of your bloody body. Allow her to spill secrets from her lips, kiss them away. Blow them to the wind, set her soul free.
IV. She has not yet lived long enough to value her own beating heart, she only knows what the world has shown her, it’s cold. Coved her, give her the warmth of a thousand kerosene lamps, light her way. She will repay you , laid across your beating heart. Keep her safe, from everyone but you. Ignite her , let her burn long into the night.
V. Leaving a empty room, steel hearts and your salvation at the door. Let her exist in the beauty of the night. A moth to the flame with no care for daylight. Bring her home, give in… She has only but one night.
You scribbled words upon the pages of my heart…your ink stained more than my lips as the poetry flowed through them. A thousands words whispered to my soul and left me clinging to my last breath. I fell from heaven and landed within your resting place. Among the ink you shed , skin deep. Every syllable clung to these hollow bones and filled my veins with more than just pieces of you. I let go of all self control in my fall from grace. I laid my lips against your pages and kissed every word that held your name. Hold me until the words stop making me shake, keep my heart from breaking my bones and diving into your soul. Keep me forever… Let me be the part when you spill your ink~