Why?

Domestic violence victim

That crucifix of yours
Rough covered and sharp
Made with prejudice and a harsh tongue
Unwavering
Rigid
Alone in its thoughtless dust

Then you took my hand
And held it firm to the cross
I walked away riddled in splinters
“That’s love” you would say
You even assured me that our bond was holy
But the pain made me question my faith

When the roses began to wilt
And the thorns grew longer
My quiet heart was trapped
Beating against me as it tried to grow

Until I was bleeding
It was then that I realized
You used my faith against me
Pricked my fingers and called it love
Yet I remained
And now I wonder

Why?

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Stillborn

graveyard

Once I was my own demise; a starving cheek kissed by fate
I sat alone in a garden of syringes and saints
Waiting for someone to find me

A shadowed stranger with a crucifix for my tainted heart
A man masked with a mirror and a butterfly stare
Came to purge my sins

The transcendent petals wept from the cherry blossom
They shed their tears for me as I sewed shut my life
For I have no pearls nor perfect deeds

I’m still living…
I’m still breathing…
This heart keeps beating…
But there is no feeling…

I am nothing but a poppet animated by my grief
Frail; my body is a hoodoo doll of holes and hollows
Awaiting a dark embrace

StolenĀ from myself by a perfect fallen angel; black with lies
I lost my heart for a chance to see the truth
And so i sit plucking out the thorns of deceit

I waste away in this graveyard garden; void and silently staring
Waiting for that shadowed stranger with a four cornered knife
To break this spell of death

I’m still living…
I’m still breathing…
This heart keeps beating…
But there is no feeling…