This I must confess
That I wonder when you will wake up and realize
What I truly am.
Because for all my fanciful thoughts and fairytales
I must confess that I will
You on the other hand are so trusting,
A naive soul believing that such whimsicality exists.
Innocent little thing
don’t you know?
Love is for children.
I will tuck your shadow into my pocket,
nails leaving a map of scars as
I slip beneath your skin,
into the veins and arteries
until I burrow into your chest
and curl up in the hollow where your heart used to be.
I will whisper cotton candy words into your ear;
smile painted on my lips
as I pour kerosene on open wounds
and light the match.
(Still think I’m beautiful?)
These pretty little hands will reach in and
carve daggers from your bones.
Somehow I think you would find it romantic
if I told you
that your dark eyes glow like ashes and dying embers,
that I fancy those shards beautiful-
the ones that
once upon a time
were your soul
before I took it
and burned it
to the ground.
To be honest;
I can’t look away from this civil war;
the scars etched across your back,
pulse frantic in it’s fight for survival,
I have not deadened is screaming,
Fighting for life,
that trust refuses to waver.
even as I strip you of all that makes you human.
peel your skin back to leave you naked
So I can feel your heart shudder in my palm.
(Love is for children)
(I don't want to break you.)