I wish I could do something brave.
Something like calling out your name.
Just to watch you flee, just to see your heart tear from me.
You wanted justice, well I’m here to offer peace.
Just know it is no sweet release.
Have you ever punched a wall?
The knuckles are bruised, the plaster painted?
This is what “love” has created.
Watch it all fall down, baby, watch it all fall apart.
I hope you don’t have an easily bruised heart.
This will get bloody quit, so look at the signs before you split.
You wanted peace? Well baby I brought us a war. Don’t you like the new decor?
Everything severed, everything exposed
A vein is only strong with a pulse.
About the Creator
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Underneath the Bridge, an Animal Breathing
These prisms, they spread, they course as if a moment, as if an entire lifetime. Our emotional bodies are threaded together as if we were meant for each other. Do you want to hear what wounds sound like? They are less like the bold howls by moonlight, they are more like silence within a well. Something you want to reach but can’t see into, something that echoes and seeps out of you. Do you want to know how the wound looks? It looks like smiles without eyes that light up. It looks like fear when someone comes too close, too near. I wonder if you jump when your lover touches your shoulder? Wounds resemble the sound of your mother. They resemble the way she tried to escape in her daydreams and the way there was never enough rest in a lifetime to keep her alive. Do you want to know why paper cuts hurt more than bruises? Because of all the nerves that reach the fingertips. Because the emotions of childhood are not meant to buried, they will otherwise consume, eventually everything. I didn’t think there was anything wrong with me. I played sports, I swam by the sea. I ate all of the Halloween candy. And yet, there was a fierce rage in me, something precious and deadly. I would disappear from time to time. I would stand on the edge of cliffs and wish I could jump, but something would pull me back, something I can only describe as birth right. I was born to break a curse. I was born to feast but first I had to fast in the wilderness of youth. The desperation of the temptation to cut myself into pieces, the temptation to be buried underneath something beautiful. I thought this must be normal. Everyone has days where they cry for hours, where they sink into their misery for miles. I did not know it was someone else’s burden. I did not know it was a poison being injected through lineage. From my grandmother passed down through to her granddaughter. I thought they would put me away. I thought they would ensnare me into another trap I was too blinded to see. This is a story about redemption, I swear. It just doesn’t always look so golden when you peer under the first layer. It doesn’t look so embolden when you realize these scars were scalded by a father from generation to generation. I thought it was something I had to carry in silence, like some gigantic mountain, like some forlorn burden. It wasn’t until I started to speak again that I realized I had a lot to say. It wasn’t until I realized someone would listen until I could get my way. This is a story of how pain has a way of invoking the deepest of silences, the quietest bird, the most broken laugh you’ve ever heard. This is a story of pain that was burnished to eventually look and feel like gold. A story meant to be retold, and refined until it was mine again. The well that can give life again. If you want the stories that taste like peaches on sunny days then you might want to stop on this page. I am full of that childhood rage, still, but I wear it like a crown now. A testament of strength that some would do better to ignore for it will bring up pain that has not enough words to cover. It is a storm that will awaken you from slumber. If you aren’t ready to take the helm, please move on, do not protest. This is a story that reflects what we do not like to see, the dragons we wish we never had to face. Please, try to understand if you can not relate than this is not a place you want to edge closer to. But if you think that my words empower you, I will continue. I will continue regardless, just know that I warned you of what is to come and there is nothing to do but feel the waves of truth crash against you.
By Faith De Young5 years ago in Poets
Love is not supposed to hurt
I reach for you, blindly in the dark. The initial moment where our hands meet is where lies my heart. I was the book no one else could read. You are the tourniquet for the cut from which I bleed. You keep the anxiety at bay. You are all the silent words I cannot say. I was the frightened animal that refused to be touched. Because of you, laughter is a must. Don't ask me what took years to learn. I was afraid to break, I was afraid to burn. I wasted eons pretending not to be distraught. I got used to the battles I had fought and lost. You became a haven for me, safe and warm. I have shelter now that will keep me dry from the storm. You are the precious sanctuary I seek. A steeple at the top of the mountain peak. I've ascended high with you at my side. My salvation lies where you and I come alive. A cathedral with open doors and open arms. I've asked for redemption and refuge where I remain unharmed. You are the blessing I was not prepared for. The invisible string that always allowed something more. I doubted why the universe brought me here. The lack of control was what I always feared. I ran out of curses for my own shame. I missed the misery because it was all that remained. You are the light that erupts brightly over the horizon. You are the anchor that kept me intact when there was none. I know nothing about fate or its sentiments. All I know is you're here with me and it makes perfect sense. I never had any hope or faith until you came along. You became the asylum in this epic love song. A secure place for me to evolve as I heal. You are everything I always wanted to feel. You are the calm waters leading me to peace. My reprieve that glues me back together, piece by piece. I'm headed back to the stars where there are no more words. You taught me that love is not supposed to hurt
By Anna Torresabout 17 hours ago in Poets
Ghostly Happenings in Colorado
Disturbed Spirits In Denver, an expanse of greenery, Cheesman Park comes with a macabre history since it was once a burial ground known as Mount Prospect Cemetery established by General William Larimer in 1858. The job of exhuming bodies began, and some were left behind resting beneath the park. However, the ghostly spirits don’t wish to rest in peace beneath the park, and visitors here have felt cold touches, seen ghostly children playing at night, and heard a singing lady who disappears when approached.
By Rasma Raistersa day ago in Horror
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