Tough

She trekked through the tall thick grass

Not knowing it was made glass

As the feeling to her limbs had been numb for years

Countless hours heaving Mother’s weight

Her youth needy

And the palms of the greedy itching for their dues 

So she pressed on

aches turned trivial overtime 

to a shelterless comparison

A frigid cold night on a bench in former years warned her well

So each day she trekked through the tall thick grass

Not knowing it was made glass

In the Deep

Quick
Into the waves you’ll toss me
Swallowed by the deep dark blue
Air no option, as you wish
A watery grave with the fishes
Because they told you I’m no good
And you listened
After years waist deep in the holes we dug
A watcher with no shovel whispered nasty nothings
Plundered miles beneath the earth to plant a hoax
To get you alone
And it worked
Unknowing, I’ll turn my back your way
Vulnerable and unaware
The voices become irrevocable truths with hands of their owns
Clasped hard around my throat
A struggle at first, weaving through those muddy tunnels
Until surface reach at last
Where you’ll see I’ve stopped fighting
One last wink from the watcher probes rage
“Say it”
You flinch
“Do it”
You cave
Up and out towards the sea
waving as I’m caught
The chill whets my soul
So I ride the tide until I sink
And become your regretful memory
The sad song of the one that got away

Lenses

I’d like to be one of those people who can wear sunglasses at night, naturally because it suits my mood just right

To add a rosy touch to the horrifying sight of people not recognizing people 

sitting idle on their steeple of morals and “thou shalt nots” 

While bodies build up in the corner behind

smugly hidden in plain sight because when

they’ve no reason to fear, they’ll wear their heart on their sleeve and leave their soul in the wind

As a friend of a family friend will ensure the win and nothing’ll change

Or be noticed 

and that’s the honour of those sunglasses at night

Shielded from the dark and hidden from the light 

Uneasily swayed by the choir of voices streaming choruses of 

Truth and reality 

The same stories smeared across the screens of the teens being preened for our future

Lined up in cliques trying to figure out how their actions affect the future and fuck the past

And how the silence never lasts because someone will get fed up

Someone will stand up and demand that the lenses be crushed

Rosy or not

Cause a rose without a name would smell just as sweet 

And admitting defeat would complete the transition to truth 

The heaviest pill to swallow

So they’ll walk around with shaded eyes,

heavy with lies because it’s easier to create a disguise

Cool, calm and collected behind those moonlit lenses

Someone I’d like to be, 

but my voice is too loud

Selfish

There’s nothing like thwarted love smudged across my collar

Bodacious Red

The honey eyes of my beloved gaze happily, unknowingly from the portrait hung boldly along the corridor

A stroke across my nudity prods an erasure of guilt

Aware now of the more current events

and able only to respond in vulgar adultery, again

Sweet death to my morality as my temptations smother my waist

Sounds-forbidden, yet lusted for during long nights between the subtle breaths of my consort

Absent for only a few hours more as her slumbers holds records in its depth

More than enough had, gluttony fiercest in moments of weakness

which appears like a wolf in the night of the fullest moons

Thirsty for prey while its cave holds abundance in nourishment

A shuffle from the sheets arouse an overcoming anxiety

and we scurry

Shame-filled and frustrated at the thought of another rendezvous sure to come

I make my way back to the side of my betrothed

Enamouring beauty peaceful in her stillness

Her heart growing weaker from every stolen moment she knows nothing of

and never will

Photographs

He kept them in pictures

Each memory capsuled in a frozen time made of ink and glossy paper

Guarded by a plastic shield ; a protection stronger than his own skin

And his heart held holes in proof 

Like acne, wounds spread around his insides 

Sores and scabs inflicted with no remorse or intent to heal

And he remained skewed,

only finding comfort in the fleeting moments imprisoned between the pages of then and no longer

Kindergarten Stuff

Its not sharing if you steal it first

Taking what you please

and setting a timer

Boundaries even

Scheduling visits with limits

Racking up rules for my own property

with no condolence in my loss

Just fees and absentee reminders that

your greater numbers pose a threat to my sucker-punched kin 

and that 

big hearts experience big loss but gain greater success

as a big voice expels after much deliberation

Patience

When joint custody is no longer satisfying enough 

and I take back what was mine all along

A receipt to ensure no memory loss imprints:

It’s not sharing if you steal it first.

Victim

Am I the victim if I let him abuse me?

Gave ultimatums and prayed that he would choose me

Night after night he would scream, yell and then bruise me

But I still loved him and that part always confused me

Wore things he liked so that he’d want to pursue me

He’d often swear that he’d die if he’d ever lose me

And then we’d fight and he’d find reasons to accuse me 

Then buy me flowers, he always knew just how to woo me

His punching bag became his favourite way to use me

My swollen lips I’d just accepted as the new me

It all got worse as he started to black and blue me

Told me he’d put me somewhere no one could ever view me

Fear outweighed love and the rage, it overthrew me

I forced his gun to my head, urged him to shoot me

He put his hands around my neck and then he threw me

Against the floor, I cried no more as he ran through me

Life left my eyes, free from myself, I was a new me

Soul to the sky, he watched me die and whispered to me

“It’s all your fault, I would have stopped if you refused me”

Am I the victim if I let him abuse me?