These memories can be a sarcophagus made from the bones you call your home.
When I was younger, I always wondered why my mother was so easily scared Even at the slightest unexpected instance- She jumped. Jumped like her bones were no longer her home And she was running away from the skin she was hiding in. As I grew older she told me the tales of how Men had made her skin their throne And took turns making her body their own- Bruised eyes became her routine As the Xanax she didn't even realize she was being fed Filled her bloodstream, it became her heart-strings. The heartache of many men filled my mothers eyes And I realize now why stability isn't in her nature much. So now as I enter a room I make sure these feet Hold steady on the ground to make a bold entrance So she hears me coming every time. I make sure these hands never grip hers too soon So she knows I'll be there when she needs me too. I still realize how she jumps when I forget That her bones are still trying to rebuild themselves. I still realize how her heart stops- And how she went through hell to find the home in her own bones. I still realize how even her own child Can make those bones feel like breaking again As the paranoia of a troubled past sets in... Even nowadays her bones will still sometimes shake at the sight of me- I realize now, how it feels To be a ghost. And that's okay, Because she believes in me- Even on the days no one else does.
Break my bones, I want to know if I can feel anything, The cocaine has filled me with anxiety, I want to snort life in its entirety, Imagine the possibilities inside of me.
I am a pile of contorted bones Adult, but fetal; sinking in fecal Material, so fickle. Time- it slows and trickles Down sunken cheeks, to tickle Smiles that are broken and brittle.
Casting shadows That make me feel so little, I'm being devoured; Carved away by his chisel.
From the inside, I have withered And this shell has split and splintered.
I am nothing but hollow bones, Covered in flesh- waiting to decompose. To be ravaged By a shattered promise of tomorrow.
-SLuR
bones.
Author: Slur pee
0
Date: 04/04/2020
№ 1204762
"Lovely Alabaster Bones"
Church bells ring of voices silenced A darkened Moon is hanging low Crickets stop to hear the empty As loving waters overflow
As angels call in voices singing Notify my heart goodbye As deafened ears are opened up No more tears are left to cry
Dying leaves, a crimson carpet Indigo ink at levied banks Waters flood my aching heartbeat Raising hands to you in thanks
Cloaking eyes, I'm in the shadows Petitioning you another dance Whispering the coming reaper If only I could have a chance
Softly come draped in darkness Ebony casts a ghostly glow Lovely bones in alabaster Putting on a secret show
Taking off the heavy waiting Holding down my paper heart A poets voice cannot be silenced By ticking hands you pushed apart
Silver tears they fall in quiet In rivers taken right or wrong Releasing me & painful weighting And sing me as I come along
Violins they speak so mellow Calling me as I go home Morning comes a glowing ember Left for you an Earthly loam
As the leaves outside are falling And thickened air bids me farewell Whispering of my departure & secrets I may never tell Although in this... You mustn't dwell
Waving you off In slow motion Blinking lashes bid adieu Darkened cloakroom, Veiling... hiding Memories of loving you
The only love I really wanted The one I never... really knew.
I am trapped in a deep darkness Im the blind trying to lead the sighted I am no longer able to see the difference between light and dark A vast white expanse laid out for me A god to create what he wants The white pages Will remain blank to avoid the darkness I was never able to create them
You are beautiful. Every part of you. Even your impossible anger flourishing through those once soft sultry eyes.
I've seen silent pools of 'sorry' and 'let's forget about it's leave your tear ducts and fall onto me cheeks. As lightweight as they are I feel them. So much more abounding with grief and true regret.
Your words had stung me before and like the boy in that movie where he kicked the nest-I was. Attacked before but now it's much worse.
The bee stings were no longer puncturing needles but silver knives in my wolverine body cutting deep in my organs, vital or not they live while my howling soul dies in unforgiving puddles of shedding fur made of crushed promises- you will never hurt me.
It's what you said and yet those wrists-tight with anger in your veins-those palms. Engulfed with the flame of the hostility you dry swallowed unwillingly along with those pink pills now coursing through your nerves.
On my bare skin those fingertips- once gently kissing my broken woman hood the same finger tips that threaded shards of broken glass together as hard as it may sound you made it happen and now threading needles turn to swords breaking thread and laying down the shear, intense, excruciating hate and I know.
I know that the holes in your heart were filled by the smell of this garden you've managed after planting in this body after others took the sunlight and poisoned the rain and drenched them with laborious despondent trickles becoming tsunamis in this heart of mine.
In this very minute I thought I was important. Like a vital organ. But how could I be so crucial to you when you made me feel so minuscule but I stay maybe not close but always.
For now let me bleed out this strenuous hate so that I can come back stronger.
Get rid of those demons you hold so dearly in your head- jealousy, being your best companion, should not be your best man at our wedding in fireflies and heartstrings of matrimony - keep me safe. Safe from your demons.
And keep me safe, then and only then, may you keep Me.
