Love’s War (Poem #165)

Do you believe in love, baby?Because I do.

I believe in blue skies, with flower crowns, and birds chirping so soft you could swoon.

I believe in soft water, with warm sand, filled with sweet wine kisses.

I believe in gentle touches, on sunny days, with breezes bringing in playful laughter.

But baby boy, love isn’t always dreams of tomorrow’s but nights filled with terrors.

Those nights when tears stain hearts more than fists break the walls.

If I could spit knives, I would lay waist to souls.

Because with love comes heartache, and heartache carries grenades.

We dream of sunshine than run when we see rain.

But baby love is also rain clouds, and muffled sobs buried in a warm embrace.

It is feeling warm tears break cold stares, holding clenched fists so tight we noticed we stopped breathing at the same time.

Baby doll your love gave me ammunition to wage war on souls!

I became stronger with love on ground weaker with fear.

I will walk through the trenches of long sleepless nights, enter no man’s land of silent nights shivering from cold shoulders across the bed, as long as the only words I ever have to fire with certainty are “I do”.

You see handsome, falling does not scare me being a lone soldier fighting for an uncertain love breaks my soul.

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At the age of…(Poem #159)

At the age of 5;

I walked up to my father,

Took the bull by the horns,

and ran with the idea that I could do anything I dreamed of…

At the age of 5 I found out the reality that no matter how much I dreamed I would never be able to be just like the boys,

Because hockey is a guy’s sport,

and boys don’t cry like I do when I fall down…

At the age of 8;

I was finally able to decide for myself how I looked…sort of,

I marched into school knowing that I was going to let my natural beauty shine through…

At the age of 8 I found out that I was the Mona-Lisa,

That I would be prettier if I smiles,

That my hair wasn’t quite right and should have been straighter,

That my place in this world was to look pretty enough for other amusement,

Make-up started filling the paint brushes and the fake smile coated my face

At the age of 10;

I remember feeling grown up,

Like this was step toward me meaning something,

And that I couldn’t wait to get older…

At the age of 10 I found out that my body wasn’t a temple but rather graffiti on the wall,

The if I started showing too soon or too much I was faking,

That the alley ways weren’t the only things supposedly stuffed with tissues,

And that rather than be supportive, girls would rather call you an attention whore and fake than acknowledge their own insecurities…

At the age of 13;

I ran wild and free away from my depression and sadness,

held tight to the back of his shoulders and the wind rushing by felt like each gust was taking my worries away just a little more…

 

At the age of 13 I found out that just because you “love” someone doesn’t mean you understand what no means,

That screaming and crying can be silenced by the most beautiful of smiles,

and that luckily for me, tears are a turn off and a harsh snap back to reality…

At the age of 16;

I fell in love again,

I saw sunshine lighting my world through dark black eyes,

Felt tender kisses ease the pain of scars…

At the age of 16 I found out what it feels like to have everything you gave be valued to nothing,

That my heart and body were simply just a roller coaster at an amusement park,

That while he wasn’t with me he would prefer to take a ride on others,

That no matter what I gave up, at the end of the day it didn’t matter because someone else was offering the same things I could give and more…

At the age of 18;

I started chasing my dreams,

Went on to a bigger city filled with the hope that these college walls would inspire an epiphany…

At the age of 18 I found out that part of my dream would be giving up someone I loved because I could take the pain and he couldn’t,

I filled my life with every distraction I could as I walked away,

Needles and knives became friends,

and sex transformed into the world where I could feel like I was worth something for those five minutes,

that my body wasn’t just filling a space that could be replaced with only memories…

At the age of 19;

I embraced memories of a older days,

Filled the worlds with smiles of love and support,

and cherished old friendships,

At the age of 19 I found out that my actions always justified the pain that others inflicted on me,

That alcohol meant more to a judge than the fact that I can’t even remember that I said no,

That the fact that a restraining order would be too harsh because it would make it harder for him to get a job,

Never-mind the fact that I still struggle to get out of bed to go to mine,

Never-mind that I didn’t want to be here in the same room as him,

Never-mind that I that I was flustered because I should have known the words to say,

Should have known that friends could rape you,

Should have known what I was walking into,

Should have known that I was tempting him, that my judgement would be clouded by tequila,

Should have known that he would lie,

Lie about how much he cared about me,

Lie about the fact that he missed me,

Lie about the fact that he and I were so close,

Lie right to the judges face about what he did to me that night,

I learned that a judge would rather listen to a liar because even though my life was ruined again society couldn’t ruin his too…

At the age of 21;

I lay in bed next to the first man I feel safe with again,

He kisses my forehead as we fall asleep…

At the age of 21 I found out that my nightmares could become his,

That I may feel safe when I am awake, but my nightmares crawl out as soon as my eyes are closed,

Want to see heartbreak,

Try explaining the fear of the boogie man to a man who doesn’t understand that he isn’t him,

Sob that you want to be normal again,

That you want to feel sane again,

That this isn’t what you wanted to be like but your ribs are starting to feel like the cage they were named after,

One were visitors are welcome but hardly ever return because the psych ward isn’t pretty even when you try to pain the walls with flowers…

When people ask me how old I am they are shocked to hear that I have only been on this world for 21 years,

My heart it 26, my mind is 30, and my conscious has no number that can fathom how old it truly feels.

In this life I have learned to use ink to write gravestones of each little part of me that died,

I try to tell people that my body became a graveyard at the age of 5,

That all of these headstones are mine,

But like a cat I have 9 lives,

And sure I may be on my last one of them, I still know how to stand on my own feet,

I’ve laid to rest a lot of demons lately,

These tombstones don’t symbolize losing they show that I have won,

Though their ghosts may haunt me and each day I can remember what it feel like to die I still know how to breath,

At the age of 22;

I will still be alive…

 

 

The right way (Poem #152)

I’ve always struggled,

to find the right words,

or the right way to show I care,

or the right way to speak about pain,

or the right moment to express myself,

or the right way to hide just enough of me that I don’t get hurt,

or the right way to fall in love,

or the right way to dance on eggshells for others,

or the right way to place my hand upon your face that you can’t feel mine tremble,

or the right way to smile so shyly that it looks like innocence but it really simply fear,

or the right way to kiss a stranger and make them feel like it means nothing yet means everything,

or the right way to not feel,

or the right way to say I forgive you when really the ache in my heart says I won’t forgive me,

or the right way to sit across the room from someone I love and tell them I am happy for them when my world is falling apart,

or the right way to say I’m simply not hungry when really hunger doesn’t come close to how I feel,

or the right way to say just enough that you will believe me when I say I am ok…

I’ve been training myself for years…

for the right way to pretend to be me,

but the right way isn’t working anymore,

and I am helplessly lost,

with no right way to go,

or no right way to fix this and move on,

and I am starting to curse myself,

because the right way used to seem so clear,

but now the right way is filled with the fog of tears,

the dew of sadness,

and the raindrops of despair,

even though the clouds are filled with emptiness,

it is still raining,

and in the wind I hear it,

saying that the “right way” is what lead me right here…

Porcelain Skin (Poem #150)

Daddy doesn’t like the piercings,

Says I am telling young men that I will do things,

That I am making an image I don’t understand of myself,

He doesn’t like the tattoos,

Says I will regret the ink,

That I am ruining my beauty…

Daddy you don’t understand,

The innocent beauty you are holding on to was taken from me at thirteen,

The metal doesn’t take away my ability to consent,

and by you stating that I am making an image of myself you made and excuse for the man you claimed you would kill when I told you what he did to me,

Daddy you hate the idea of someone’s hands touching me,

but you never asked what I wanted.

Daddy you don’t see that I use the ink and needles to replace the blade of a knife,

that I would rather make something beautiful out of the pain.

And daddy I thought you would be proud of me

because it is easier to explain a tattooed and pierced daughter

than one with scares and blood running down her arms.

Daddy why can’t you see past the ink and the metal,

Daddy let go of the little girl you think I am,

because I haven’t been a little girl for a long time,

Daddy why can’t you see that this is something much bigger than you will ever understand,

Daddy why can’t you accept ink stains on porcelain skin over blood stains on a broken heart?

 

Sometimes the nicest people you meet are covered in tattoos, while the most judgemental people you meet go to church on Sundays.:

You aren’t alone (Poem #135)

If you are awake right now,

At 4 am,

Sobbing into your pillow,

Clenching on to the last shred of hope you have…

Just know you are not alone,

I am right here,

Sobbing with you,

We will make it through this…

I hope….

The powers of true love (Poem #129)

I do not know what is more powerful,

My unquestionable, devotional love toward you,

Or my strength as I stand to the side waiting patentiently for the day you are ready and able to fall as hard as I did,

Or my heart as it aches daily for you to return but knowing it can not show it for you need to find your way back on your own.

Believe (Poem #86)

My brain keeps telling me that I am not worth it for you to deal with,
My brain keeps telling me that I will never be pretty enough to make you be proud to be with me,
My brain keeps telling me that my body type isn’t perfect enough to be sexy in your eyes,
My brain keeps telling me that my breast and butt are still too small to make other jealous that you have me,
My brain keeps telling me that I will never be smart enough to be successful enough to support us,
My brain keeps telling me that tomorrow isn’t worth it, because you will probably leave,
My brain keeps telling me that I am not enough and that I will never be,
My brain keeps telling me all these lies…
So my brain keeps telling me all these things,
Yet you remind me that all these things are lies,
And today….today I decided to believe you!

The whisper that Outweighs the Screams (Poem #71)

Mentally I understand it,

My brain can tell me a thousand times,

but my heart won’t listen,

it muffles out the screams,

and replaces them with whispers that echo through my soul.

I don’t know if that is a good thing,

or if all it will do is drive me insane…

Because my mind is screaming “HE DOESN’T WANT YOU!”

But my heart still clings to “Maybe someday he will……”

The moment I knew….(Poem #63)

I had an experience,

something I have never felt before,

This sense of eagerness,

and relief all at the same time,

As I took that step forward I could finally feel what it meant to be free,

free of a chain that others put on me,

one that told what it was to love and to feel,

but I am not hiding anymore,

because my feelings are real.

Others can not tell me,

nor decide what I want,

don’t you dare tell me what my heart wants,

because you don’t know me,

or what I want to see.

Please stop telling me the definition of my identity.