An Ink-Stained Life

Oh, what a dream to run away. To pick up the pieces of a broken past And scatter them to the wind. Set the destination to Nowhere, Where coyotes and bobcats roam Where crystalline caves Remain hidden in the sandstorm Of sacrifice and togetherness. A deserted landscape, That so similarly resembles my ribcage. As dry as the Sahara And as hot as the Mohave, Yet I stand before you As a frostbitten shell. Where fire meets ice, And where ice meets fire Is the location of my suffering And the downfall of my muse. A whisper for a sign of relief In a sea of pain and regret, And all I see is a reckoning In my wake. Do I sleep with the sinners Or die with the saints? My serpent-tongue has no right To beg for forgiveness from you, Yet I open my treacherous mouth To speak to you, Yet it only exacerbates the heartache. I yearn to live In the warmth of your soul, To bask in the reflection of your eyes. Now the magnolias are in a state...

When I kneeled at the foot of your altar, You dismissed my worship And instead gave me dead roses. When I crawled in your lap And offered my sun-kissed petals You were repulsed by the thorns. The thorns grazed your fingers And when the mouth of a crimson river Opened your disgust became prominent on your face. My thorns were not a burden you Were equipped to carry. For when I reached for the stars, You brought out shears. You said "You are like snow", Cold to the touch yet pure at heart. I longed to meet your fingertips In the space between desperation and lust, And what I received was empty promises On a bed full of yearning and want. Your scent lingered on my pillow Like your ghost on my soul And the ceiling became a blank canvas Painted with your memory That soothes the stormy seas That raged within my ribcage. The eyes that once memorized Every freckle on my being, The hands you used to caress Every curve of my bo...