Dancing Through Blood Stains
I remember the wind in my hair here.
I remember the ghost of your fingers lightly brushing my waist.
I remember that choke in my throat.
The same one that’s here now.
I remember dark glasses hiding your eyes and the even darker circles from the night before.
I remember you inside.
And out too.
And figure eights.
And smoke.
And nails.
And mirrors covered in white.
And table tops covered in razor blade scratches.
And my insides covered in razor blade scratches.
And your mouth covered in blood, fresh from your nose.
And I remember it all falling apart.
Just like that first nose bleed.
A hemorrhage of feelings.
Falling out of you and into me.
Split up but still over flowing.
Until it broke us both.
Until the night air couldn’t contain us.
Until the floor couldn’t hold us.
I remember you.
And the strain of you against me.
And the breeze dancing on my face.
And the sun dancing across us intertwined.
And the leaves dancing through the parking lot.
And the flurries dancing with our breath in the air.
And us dancing through every season.
Bleeding out into each other.
But mostly I remember you.
And your hands.
And my neck.
And the choke in my throat.
He cares
I expected bruises and I got them. Nothing new. The deep purple and intense green spreading across my skin. I was used to it by now. To the stains on my body, to the pain in my muscles. Just another day with him, another passing moment of our relationship. Our life together. Of our love as he called it.
Sweetheart, I told you not to anger me. Don’t you know how much I love you? Why would you disappoint me like that?
I didn’t have an answer to that. I just wanted his love. The way it was once. The time when his hand wouldn’t lift so high. Before him hitting me, wasn’t the only sound that I heard. The only music of my day... I stare at him and try not to move. I cross my arms so they don’t shake. So he doesn’t smell my fear.
He likes it too much, it gets him all riled up.
I asked you a question. Do you want me to repeat?
He pushes me to the bed and I fall. I don’t put up a fight. I don’t complain.
That would only encourage him. He enjoyed a challenge. This little game of the cat and the mouse. I watch him as he comes to me slowly. Step by step. One short breath after another. I look down at my bare legs. I look at the stains that have already turned yellow. I think that I am going to get new ones. I think that I will need to hide it better under thicker stockings. He didn’t like when people noticed. I cover my face and wait.
He comes closer and strokes my face with the tips of his fingers. Gently. Slowly. With attention. I wait. I am not fooled. His hand lifts. A slap. One time, two, three, four, five, six, seven... I move my tongue to feel the inside of my mouth. The taste of fresh blood fills me. It tastes like metal. Like home. Like my prison.
Baby, don’t disappoint me again.
He lifts me up by my throat and lifts me up in the air. My toes dangle in the air. I try to catch my breath. I groan. Yet I am not scared. This isn’t the first time and he loves me.
He would never really hurt me. My fingers slide against his hands, lightly, like a caress. I run out of air. My vision gets blurry. I count. One, two, three, four... the grip loosens up.
I fall to the floor.
See what you made me do? You won’t do it again? Will you sweetheart?
I clear my throat but nothing comes out. I gasp for more air. I can’t say anything so I just shake my head. It’s enough for him. He touches my ankle and moves it up to my thigh. I try not to flinch. He pats my torn skirt and smiles softly. He gets up and walks to the door.
That’s a good girl. You make me so happy.
He walks out. He locks the door. I hear him take out the key. I look at the mess around me. I was making dinner before. I forgot to throw the garbage away. I lay on the bed and wrap my arms around my body. I won’t disappoint him tomorrow.
...
Squish Squash Up To My Knees
I walk in the blush of his blood
black wine of the moon
magenta diamonds on my soul
drenched in bittersweet tears
I watch as his death flows
in crimson streams
the kiss of death
magenta moisture pooling
claret karma entrapping him
embroidered vermillion drops
I turn my head
and walk on alone.
I draw my hands to my chest
slowly
shaking
and watch as my hands turn silver from your blood.
Freedom.
She stared at her wrists.
Her scars were clear, staring right back at her.
But this one... This one was different.
It was bleeding and bleeding and it wouldn’t stop.
It was an artery.
A mistake.
She was dying.
She watched the magenta pool spread across her white floor tiles and laughed with dry tear streaks framing her beautiful face.
She started at the moon and smiled.
She managed to write one word before she faded completely.
Freedom.
Her brother was the first one in her room.
The image scarred him for life.
Her blood, once fresh and bright, now a dull hue... Was everywhere.
She looked so happy, so calm, so at peace.
He wanted to be happy too.
His parents came in, screamed, a funeral was arranged.
He watched with little interest as people who didn’t care walked in and out, apologising over a girl they didn’t know.
His mind flashed back to the blood.
It was beautiful, so beautiful... But it wasn’t bright.
He wanted to see it bright.
So he cut his own wrists.
He cut his own thighs.
He grew up and killed strangers, just to see their blood.
He searched and he searched... But it was never the right shade.
It never matched his sister’s.
Finally, one night, he was cornered by the police.
His only companion, a dog lay at his feet.
It had been with him for years, ever loyal, ever supportive.
It reminded him so much of his older sister... His beautiful, broken, dead big sister.
He took his knife and sliced its throat, ignoring the weak yelp it let out.
He watched the red liquid seeping out from the severed neck of his only friend and smiled.
Finally, he found the match.
No more pain, no more deaths, he didn’t have to be alive anymore.
He had paid his debts for not being able to save her.
He could finally put his sick, twisted mind down like the hound he had just killed.
He held a gun to his head and grinned before pulling the trigger.
His blood splattered on his dog, on his knives and razors and his body was found, slumped, on the floor.
He was dead.
It was all over.
He was finally free.
SHOULD be
Love should be enough
A strong love
A stubborn love
That I was told could move mountains
No one told me of flaws
Of the pain that followed
Love should be enough
A beautiful love
A bonded love
Then why are families torn apart
Because of different blood
Because of bad blood
Love should be enough
A forever love
A fantastic love
That's what we say as the tears fall
Broken bones are said to heal
But what about our hearts
Love should be enough
A loyal love
A labored love
Said to heal any broken heart
But if love was there
Why was it broken
Love should be enough
A taboo love
A taken love
God help those who wait for love
They wait for a ghost
A dead love
A done love
A young loved
Gone
Vampire
Like a needle, an agile penetration
Plus a kiss, to cause no agitation
My blood by a vampire has been tasted
My blood by a lover has not been wasted
THE FLOWER GIRL
It’s in the water—
a liquid rose,
unfurling.
The flower girl’s a wife now.
...It’s not what she imagined.
She loves him
and he loves her, she’s sure of it—
but you know how men can be.
Her father was no different, after all.
She's used to the colours—
to blue and violet and crimson—
almost fond of them by now,
so it's no strange thing
to find herself dripping
scarlet blooms
into the bathtub.
... ...... ....
#poetry
#challenge
#freshblood
DAEMON
A cold, harsh wind blew
High above the tree~tops,
One kid’s kite flew
The creature waited
In the shadows
The kid then rested
Carefully looking around
His other pals were home
Soon, he heard a hound
What in mummification?
The kid was terrified
This was no safe haven
The creature crawled towards the kid
He tried to run, but slipped
On a honey~jar lid
The thing moved in a lightning pace
And it leaped onto the child
It was acting like it was in a race
The creature smelt the fresh blood
The child had injured his knee & leg
Slowly, the kid moved his head
The creature’s pow’rful claws
Fell onto the child’s face &
The thing picked at the kid’s eyes
It bit into the child’s neck
And enjoyed the freshness of the fluid
Withour taking any break
#DAEMON
As Her Mother Before Her
After she thought
the ordeal was over
she ate
what was handed to her
the still pulsing placenta
that had just emerged
from her hot and tired body
and tasted
the
fresh blood
of her first born child.