Scab

Scab

There are infinite days that you stay on my mind. That twinkle you get in your eyes when you laugh that laugh that causes my heart to flutter.

Making my heart try to convince, bargin and plead with my mind, this time will be different. That my love and loyalty wasn't in vain.

Then the deafening silence of my phone not ringing, causes the scab of our past damage to itch.

I pick at my wound. Scratching and peeling till it bleeds, cause I like the color. Then I complain about the pain it inflicts on me.

I am an undercover masochist, indeed.

An emotional cutter with a rusty blade, made of the unapologized, painful memories of you. 

Tarred and Feathered

Tarred and Feathered 

The darkness, inside oozing out my pores. Hot, steamy and sticky like fresh tar. 

Grey feathers falling from fresh, clean air. Sticking to me. Covering me in a fluffy cocoon.

Crawling to the river on all fours. Scrapping my knees and the base of my palms. Tears flowing from my eyes, oddly making my vision clearer. 

Into the river I lay.

 On my back, but in the opposite of floating, I sink slowly. Deeper and deeper into what seems like a bottomless cavern. 

My air supply gone, yet the breath of life no longer missed. Tar and feathers gently washed away by the current. I can only pray the current also washed away the stains on my soul. 

Creating The Monster

Creating The Monster 

It's quite humorous how time can change one's position.

In the beginning I was so in love with you, that I couldn't see straight. My blind loyalty kept me in your corner, wearing a dunce cap. Almost nightly, on bended knees in devotion to a higher power. Hoping and praying on shooting stars. Wishing on fallen eyelashes. Falling tears and a breaking heart was my company. 

Realizing your love would never be mine, I moved on. Now you're missing my loyalty, after failing to find another with the same intensity. I find you scratching at my door, like a lost dog looking for a home. You frown at my haughty laughter. Oh how times have changed, indeed.

My heart heavily guarded. Colder, harden and slightly jaded, a great deal by your hand. Yet you try to condemn the monster of your own creation.