i fear the day that the sky turns dark red.
when chocolate covered strawberries taunt me.
and when dagger-sharp arrows fall overhead.
these are the sure tell signs that you must flee.

you must fear St. V, for he is peckish,
famished and preying for those lonely hearts.
he will seek you out and offer a kiss
and with eyes closed, aim at you with his darts.

you must not trust this pink and lovely day.
no matter the roses or the love notes,
or the sweet grand gestures and what they say.
St. V will trick you and slash through your throat.

So when that dreadful love-filled day rolls in,
go find that cherub babe, and slaughter him.

and it’ll be as if it never happened.

and it’ll all fade away.

days and months and years
and nothing will be the same.

maybe you’ll be older and wiser
maybe you’ll be kinder

and it’ll all be a bad dream
something to shake you up from your sleep

and it’ll leave you to wonder
was it even real?

have i no wounds to heal?
the scars will thicken over
it’ll be brand new again

you’ll forget of love and war
and you will never mend

the tiny fracture in your armor
will create the same salt somber

that somewhere your heart is thieved
that somewhere, within me, your heart, it grieves.

and now i’m drenched in desire.

feral and writhing at the hand that feeds me
and everyone always feeds me.

there’s no use in waiting
or wading in the grass

yet, i still feel the blades upon my back
every drop of wet wet dew caresses me
and the breeze shimmers me tauntingly.

now, i twist and contort at the touch of something new
and it rises up in me,
this new longing,
this new pining.

won’t you satisfy me?
won’t you give me what i deserve?

and i know that i will see you again
under the shade of the night
covered in sticky sweat
and love’s delight.

and until then,
nothing else will satisfy me.
nothing can compare.

and soon, so soon,
you will own my flesh
and you’ll have me, rare.

do you exist?

in this realm,
in this time,
in this small blip of moments,

and if so,
how do i capture you?
hold you in my hands.
in my heart.
how do i seek you out?

when you’re nothing of our kind.
neither here nor there.
you’re simply smoke and mirrors.
nowhere, yet everywhere.

you’ve got no flesh and bones,
simply god made and grown.
you’ve got no fear, just quest,
a longing to roam.

are you even real?

or just an ache that I conceal?

if you are just fiction,
how do I conjure you
and keep you with conviction?

you’d be locked into my mind.
giving me endless daydreams,
yet consuming all my time.

then maybe i’d be lost
in your never ending shimmer.

my life and light would fade
in comparison
to a low flicker dimmer.

i would waste my decades decaying.
simple, stupid, and waiting.

i would turn down every suitor.
yet I would be an angry, seething,
lovelorn refuter

and if i can’t have you,
or sift my hands to grasp,
what will be the purpose?
and what heart of mine will last?

The first time I contemplated suicide was at the age 13.
Sleeping pills. Just like mom.
I wanted to dream forever.
Many more occurrences followed that year.

The next was at the age of 15.
Cutting. Finally had the courage.
I took a broken shard of glass and I
Finally found the anger inside of myself.

Following that was the age of 17.
Self inflicted pain. Heartache seemed worse at the time.
I dug my nails into my skin.
Making scars seemingly physical now.
I finally found a way to release the pain.

Last night,
I contemplated suicide.
I promised that I wouldn’t go through with it.
But who cares?
Who could stop me?
Who would want to?

I’m happy.
I swear, I am.
You know I am.
I only fake it a little bit.  

But sometimes,
I don’t think I can do this anymore.
I don’t think I can live anymore.
At least not by myself.

I hated myself,
And time and time again.
The hate seeps through the bleeding cuts.

Sometimes I starve myself.
Sometimes I hurt myself.
Sometimes I hate myself.  

Sometimes I contemplate suicide.

But tonight
I cut the pen into paper.
Bleeding out my vulnerability in hopes to die poetically.

Dad,

Did you really mean the things you said to me? That one night.
Did you really mean to disown me at birth? That one afternoon.
Did you really mean to hurt me and the woman I love? That one day.

Before birth, dad, I learned love through closed fists.
I learned love through the smell of bourbon and the taste of whatever drugs were on your tongue that night.
I learned love through abandonment.

At the age of three months, I was naive.
I thought love was shown in the shapes of bruises.
I thought love was left in the burn marks.
I thought love was embedded into broken ribs.

I thought sleeping pills made you fly.
That’s why I cried for mama to take me with her.

At the age of seven, I was naive.
I believed you loved me.
I believed that I was the subject of every waking ballad you’d sing to me.
I believed that your rough hands rubbing lotion on me was out of love not pure obligation.

At the age of nine, I was naive.
I trusted your words.
I trusted your vows.
I trusted everything you’d say.
Yet, you never showed up.

But even love can’t make room in busy.

At the age of eleven, I was naive.
I waited for you.
I longed for you.
And some nights,
I cried for you.

But distance makes screams seem quieter than they seem.

At the age of thirteen, I was naive.
I needed you.
That year I tried to fly like mama.

No one cried for me.

At the age of sixteen, I was naive.
I was cutting the thought of you out of me.
I was cutting the half of me that belonged to you.
I bled out the portion that reminded me of you.

Dad, I’m scared.
I’m terrified that I forgot a piece of you.
That inside me, somewhere, is a part of you growing.

I don’t want to hurt the ones I love.
I don’t want to ruin everything I love.
I don’t want to make anyone feel the way you made me feel.

I fear that I'll grow up to be you.
Ruthless, mysterious, alone, aggressive,
And a coward.

But
At the age of 18, I wasn’t naive.
I pushed you away.
I cut all ties.
I disowned you this time.

At the age of 18.
You created sons,
You created a family.
The one you always wanted一
You finally found the true meaning of love.

Your youngest daughter,
Marrianna.

When my kid asks me:
Mama, where were you when the coronavirus pandemic hit?

Well, sweet child, mama was out there exploring the world. I climbed mountains, sailed seas, and fought pirates. Mama was a warrior. She was a healer. She was something else. Mama was making history.

Really, Mama?

No, baby.

I stayed inside trying to finish schoolwork. I put together every puzzle at least 3 times. I ate the same meal twice a week. Baby, mama was robbed. Mama never saw her friends, mama never went to prom, mama never fought a pirate.

Was that all, mama?

No, love.

People died. Too many people, too many people died. We were too stupid, we were too busy, we were ignorant, love. We were destructive, we were killers of our own kind. We were monsters, love.

But, sweetheart...

Yes, mama?

There was beauty in it. Such beauty. We died so the world could live. Flowers bloomed, fish swam, and nature thrived. We could feel the sunshine, we could feel the rain, we could hear the birds, sweetheart. It was beautiful.

Weren’t you scared, mama?
Weren’t you lonely?

My child, yes, I was once. I was scared and I was lonely, but I learned something, my child. In fear, nothing grows. In isolation, there is solitude. But In hope, we flourish. In solitude, we find peace.

My child, my sweet child, we were just beginning to awaken.
Now, we’ll never sleep again.