i know your mother taught you the wrong definition of love- violet skin and shaking hands are not parts of passion. i know she taught you that hearts are meant to be bent, tattered and torn, that comfort only comes in dreams of death, that the fire within you must be extinguished. i know she told you that your lips are oceans never meant to part.

but-

i know you keep a mountain lion in your throat. i know you can roar. i know there's scarlet under your skin.

i know she taught you that more of you is forged from the devil than you know, but i also know this- you are more.

i built a grave

out of bedsheets

and buried you between-

tucking you in tight enough

to suffocate your childish giggles

desperately,

i placed your purple bike

in the basement

so like me,

it could collect dust

in solitude

i carried your old hobbies

to the fireplace

and watched them burn-

and i didn't speak

to your parents

about what i'd done

-time changes a person-

there is still a part of you

in my soul

but i know what is dead

cannot be revived

now i can't find the pieces of you

that i need

i do not feel alive

there are layers and layers and i'm standing and watching as the sun sets over the hills while the colors fade closer and closer into dark dark blue black colors but not before they turn to red, dark bright red is the first layer and then an orangey color that really really makes you want to fly in an airplane right now at this moment come on why don't i have a house with a view oh why the next layer is such a perfect color of purple that you don't imagine it will ever turn to blue but oh it does, the blue is so blue it's like the ocean in hawaii and hey i wonder is there a sunset in hawaii right now...?

sleeping cramped

in the corner attic

dust is everywhere

dust

spiders

all the worst things

but worst of all worst

clutter unimaginable

it's not just the space

it's not the spaces in-between

spaces where there isn't any

it's the piled high paper

that not one person

will let me consider

recycling

shredding

or otherwise disposing thereof

so my small cot is surrounded

the deal is this:

spend the night among it

all the cumbersome details

and their trappings

and all will be forgotten

you see,I was bold one day

normally I can't even

touch the attic door

but something had to be done

and I was alone

the window was so inviting

and I wondered

what would it look like

to see just one pile

fluttering down in the wind

like the moths they are

tonight

I sleep by that pile

for I am not the only one

with a problem

if imagination were a seed

what possibility would it grow?

planted in a fertile mind,

might it find it's flow?

reaching for creation

just as it's sown,

blooming into reality

focus has shown

as water to the stone

impossible

is possible unknown

- M.E.

201506092237

Tattoos cover the lies

Ink over scars

Blending with bruises

Hiding the darkness

Because the world said

"You must be beautiful"

So they dipped her in color

Adorned her face with a smile

Never seeking the truth

That her soul is on fire