Image from Unsplash
only a few have broken the Forth Wall. When they do, I feel the tears in me dry... The friend I need at that moment… and the advice that’s so subtle, it’s more than welcoming. Because I know without its words, I’m not ashamed at how I feel for someone has written their survival.
While some can manage this,
most are naïve— admiring themselves in the half-silvered mirror they call your eyes.
Tarlatan of fuchsia
bleeds into her bodice. Like a gutter flower ballerina, her performance is flawless. She’s silently reliant in every movement.
Admiring someone from behind
these transparent walls only adds to the guilt of strengthening them.
Just when I start
to have hope, like others before I watch them give up and walk away.
If only it were obvious
that it wasn’t meant to keep anyone away nor is it my prison.
To help ease the pain,
I find a way to reinforce the damage they did for the next person to try.
I’ve convinced myself,
after so many failed attempts, that I’ve closed-off my heart when I’ve had it open this whole time.
I don’t need someone
to save me— I want someone strong enough to need me.
*Image by 500px.com
I’m not a knight
that most women dream of having or what some people aren’t used to seeing. Doffing my armor, let me “show and tell” you about my bedroom battle scars.
At first glance,
you’ll notice the singes from hand-prints that once scorched my chest.
Along my abdomen,
passed the many wax burns, are two sets of initials— permanently etched and burdened to carry.
Looking at my wrists,
you’ll see healed bruise marks— having been rubbed raw from being hand-cuffed or tied down.
Born with a
bullseye beauty mark on my bottom lip, it’s an obvious target that’s been gnawed and preyed upon.
While you’re there,
take a look at my neck. It gives me chills thinking about all the bite marks that once excited me.
you’ll see angel wings scratched across my shoulder blades. It’s not as prominent on the small of my back or behind my thighs but there were a few.
Each scar has its story
and they’re not fairy tales. I’m a knight forever bound to her fire. The hotter, tougher, rougher, and wilder— the better my skills will remain a myth to many.
*Image from Pinterest