Posted on

Breaking While Pushing Forward

  I never wanted you to take one of those      Flowers sitting on one of those boxes
or to pack up your love,
And get ready to send them off to face
God.

I never wanted you to say goodbye,
To think that this was it
Even though most of your reality
With him was toxic.

I never wanted to see you
Sitting in any pew,
Mourning throughout
the morning of a
Homecoming,

Not for him especially,

 not for anyone.

Continue reading Breaking While Pushing Forward

Posted on

Love at Death’s Pace

 

Trauma had already
taken her life
many times
before,

but this love called,
& she finally
wanted to bury
herself,

laying the unworthiness
that rung in her
ears to
rest,

more life seemed
like a threat
to the plans that
death arranged
in her
brain.

Life froze,
while death learned
to pace around
her chest.

She always made room
for it,
at her worst &
at her best,

tucking it in at night
with a kiss,
giving it her
comforter to borrow,

hoping that she
would embrace it
while waking
tomorrow.

she wanted to stare
it in the eyes,
to break away from
her flesh.

clocks didn’t exist

because day and
nightfall were one
in the same,

the sun wasn’t
her friend because
light was flames,
trees were matches

and the birds?

witnesses.

There was no sky.

she learned to pray
for death because
he taught her to,

stopping to see it
up close right
around the block,

as he sped, racing,
not caring if he
killed them,

saying this
with madness in his
shoulders.

death ran through
his veins,

that’s why she died
with her eyes open,
in love,

regularly,
hopefully,
hopelessly.

he used his grip
to flirt with
her death,

flashing memories
of trauma before
her eyes.

Death had no
disguises,
just different
phases & forms,

he sketched one on
his arm with
a knife
while staring
her in the face,

saying he cared
only about
being lifeless.

he killed spirits
of the living
& the dead,

becoming the death
wish that her pain
sought,

learning to be
a reckless monster
that threw words
at everyone,

hoping to high-five
the devil, while
making fire of
hearts.

she was cold.

he taught her
how to worship
her death,

turning lifelessness
into her purpose,
something like
his own,

she was no longer
a person,

just misery and
bones with skin
that cowered at
the bat of any eye.

she wanted no one
to see how her
weariness

choked her,
spat her out,
& left her

crying in corners,
anywhere.

when she came back
to herself,

all she could do
was try to dig the
life out of her,

hoping that it
was still breathing.