Poetry

Heartbreak at 16.

Moonlight casts shadows.

Hides the wounds.

The vermilion invisible.

The cuts cloaked.

The pain peeks

From the cracks

In the armor

She’s been wearing

Since the first

Heartbreak at 16.

Poetry

My Doom.

They say you sense doom from far, far away.

I hadn’t.

I hadn’t seen the destruction.

I hadn’t heard the heartbreaking wails.

I hadn’t smelled the stench of unending hurt.

I hadn’t tasted the salt in the tears.

I hadn’t moved the vessel of my being,

Lying like a corpse at his feet.

I hadn’t backed away from my doom.

I hadn’t sensed.

Poetry

Weight of her Soul’s Words.

Groaning joints

And whimpering cries

Later, she

Realised she needed

To relieve herself

Of the weight of

Her soul’s words.

Fingers swollen with

Golden sparks of

Poetries, she

Put a pen to paper

And let go of

The heavy words

Which lit up the

Skies a

Glimmering

Onyx.

Poetry

Foundation of Love.

When I’d climbed over

The rubble of my aspirations

As the earthquake of betrayal

Had shaken my being,

The house made of lies and old wounds,

And the attention I’d used as

A salve to seal the cracks and hold

Was a poor alternative to the foundation

Of Love houses are built on.

This house was doomed to fall.

It hadn’t been a home.

Poetry

Betrayal and Heartbreak.

imageNo tears. Just rain.
No tears. Just rain.

The untrusted word
The broken promise
The knife in the back
The smile behind the hand
The lies and laughter
The bitchy disaster
The unlikely recovery
The fake concern
The non-sensical question
The anger returns
There’s no hurt
There’s no sadness
It’s all anger now.
Vicious anger.
Ready to over flow,
Like hot lava all over.

P.S. It’s been so long since I wrote something like that. Not that I have improved over the years. Not even a bit. But, well, it is what it is.