stories of lost stars

She would stare at the reflections of the sky as they were replicated on Earth,
With wonder and pity, she traces over the glass, only for it to distort.
She caresses the moons crescent, a slip of what she once was.
A perfect so picture could only exist in the confides of her mind,
For the stars always had a way of changing and creating what had never been.

She watched and waited, never letting her eyes stray far from the blackening sky.
Staring endlessly at the stars as they were born time and time again, yet,
For all their beauty, the broken galaxies they left behind never could amount, for,
Each held a shattered piece of a life that was no longer theirs to claim.

From Death, she supposed, the stars gained a presence they could not in life,
Uninhibited by the bounds creation trapped them in,
They moved and soared with no means of Time or the space they resided.
And they burned tales in the darkness—the story of lost stars had never been found.
Explosions and bursts brought forth from a love they once shared with the sky.

It is in that moment, she fell in love with Life the way Death once had.
Forever wanting to grasp what he could never have,
The need to create and give life—his touch would only sully,
So to have what he could not, he gave his curse to the stars above.

He hoped to impress creation with his virtuosity, to dazzle her with cosmos
Left behind by overwhelmed stars and their fragmented existence,
But for all his attempts at infatuation, Life would not submit,
For she was engrossed with Time and his tricks,
Existences given and taken in a single moment,
And Life had always been naïve, eager to give, and Time was forever patient,
Waiting for opportunity to snatch the cosmos Death had forged.

But, perhaps that is a story for another time, she thinks,
For the stars have no master, at least, no longer, as they play and fall from the sky,
And she knows that it is only a matter of time, before,
Life decides to give back what was taken from the stars in the sky,
For Time to bid himself and draw the cosmos across millenniums, all the while,
Death sits and waits for Life to look at him the way she does her creations,

But perhaps that is a story for another life, she wonders,
For she had watched the stars shift and change time and time again,
After all, it is a moons job to keep the stars in line with themselves and the games they play.

fucked up fairytale

Everyone always tells the stories of heroes,
Those who rise against the odds and defeat impossibility,
But they are not the stories that keep her up at night,
She knows how they end. All the same, all morals align and evils suppressed.
She wanted a different version than these classics,
One that was real and painful and all consuming,
Yet, these stories seemed as old as time, some retold, and others rewritten.

She once prayed for a fairytale romance,
A prince to sweep her off her feet,
The rainbow to never fade from her skies;
What she got could hardly count as a fairytale,
More like a knock off, a cheap imitation of true love and a twisted path.
Where the prince was no gentleman, love was merely an idea
And no magic could save her from her fuck ups and distant heart.

But, the Grimm Brothers can’t trademark those fucked up fairytales from the grave,
So she latched onto her mistakes and pain and created something beautiful.
She rewrote her tales and didn’t shy from the ugly truth,
Gathering legends and parables and myths from past loves and heartbreaks,
And she spun them with threads of gold found at each of her lovers’ beds.

He was love and pain and fear and thrill all in one,
And for a heartbeat so in tune with hers,
She could have not imagined a more perfect villain.
The one person to challenge her in ways she never knew.
And her romantic heart rejoiced and sang,
While her twisted mind crawled its way back to the forefront,
For finally she had found her story that would continue to write itself,
Losing itself among the pages of her fucked up fairytale,
And the rest, was history of a tale as old as time.

 

Ruins you left me in

I hate the silence that surrounds me in the crowd,
Only when I escape to solitude does the noise simmer and fade,
And the place where my mind can wander freely is exposed,
To you, to them…to anyone with a mind to listen.
You had came to my hearts calling,
Summoned by like minded and withered hearts,
And I clung to you like a child,
Helpless and gullible, believing the words that spilled from a pretty mouth.

We fought for answers we had no right knowing,
We laughed as the fires rose from where we crashed,
{I never could see the burns forming on my skin,
Or the bruises on my hips, thighs and arms,
And the blood that drips into my mouth is sweeter than I remember.}
I can see the lie as it forms in your eyes,
But I am too blinded to trust anything other than my version of the truth,
So I laugh and cry and scream and fuck with you as expected,
Never knowing what the future of us would hold.
So now the words I need are just out of reach,
Screaming at me, shouting for freedom and release,
But my terror keeps my lips sealed,
And the memories refuse to fade, trapped on reply in every waking thought.
I see your face in every shadow that creeps,
Your presence never truly leaving, and every motion has me turning my head back.
I hold my breath and watch, waiting for you to appear,
But you never do. Leaving my thundering heart and me.
Chaos comes in all shapes and sizes, but yours consumed my entire self,
Once we could have moved planets and stars,
But now we only leave dust in the ruin of a forgotten time and place,
Left behind by a black hole of our own making.

the monsters in my bed

I know this purely a physical attraction; there are no emotions for monsters like us,
But I’ve never met a demon that touches me so gently,
Saying sweet, enticing things that make my thighs clench and breath quicken.
So lets create a heaven in our blacken hell, and pray the old gods are merciful,
For the sins we commit in the bedroom are everything short of a holy grace.

I know the monsters I let in my bed won’t be there in the morning,
Afraid of the light when they awake, we lay together, covered, tangled in the sheets.
The feeling of false intimacy as heavy as the hand on my breast
So I let the night devour us in the stillness of uncontained lust and silk,
Knowing you won’t be there when I look for you in the morning sun.
So sing my praises with your tongue, body and fingers,
While I close my eyes and let the sensation unfold like notes of the harp,
We only have ‘til the dawn, lover, lets make the best of it.

Drawn by the light of the moon, the bed shakes and groans under our weight,
There is nothing off limits here, no move too scandalous or taboo,
So position me on my back, bend me over; fuck me with the desperation of a sinner,
Ready to do anything to get him to the gates of heaven.
And for you my dear lover, I sink to my knees and take you deep,
Loving the way you can help but flex your hips and stroke my hair,
Thrusting your cock into my mouth, only heavy breathing and gags fill the room,
And only when I’m dripping, sopping, will you take me for all I am.

The twilight shines, illuminating our teeth, nails, bits and scratches,
I am all but numb, my voice hoarse from the screams you pulled from my mouth,
And we lay together in the sheets, sweaty and out of breathe.
But now, the sun is coming up over the clouds,
And it is time for our night affairs to halt.
So leave the lust and passion and silk, until we meet again,
Shrouded in the horror of a tempting night and the cries of lovers lost.

I wish…

I wish I could make you proud,
I wish I could see the smile that graces your face in the dead on the night,
But I know these feeling are reserved for those disentangled and close to your heart,
So I sit and crack jokes at both our expenses,
Knowing we could never get to the place where ignorance is bliss,
But fuck if we don’t try anyways.

I’ve never seen you smile that way, mouth wide, eyes closed in bliss,
Only captured by a moment in a timeless photo,
Surrounded by faces I’ve grown distant from,
So I wait and hope that the tears falling from my eyes are that of joy,
For how can I explain my sadness in a positive light?

I have so much more than those around me—so good, so good, how can I be sad?
But for all I have, can it possibly be enough to make you smile?
How can I prove you wrong, when I can never be right in mind?
I know you are feeling alone, the smile amongst strangers as plain as day,
But I know you will walk away, waiting for the day when I let my guard down.
Of all the feelings you hide, is it worth it in the end?

My wish is to make you proud, (I’m sorry for the way I am)
But how can pride come forth when there is nothing new to be coveted.
And so I wait in an unbroken promise, needing to be explained and sought.
I wish I could make you smile, if only for a moment, trapped in single day.

the bottom of a bottle

When her father was drunk, he’d say ‘I used to have a brother, you know’,
He got faraway look in his eyes, a memory forming in the clouds,
His hands would open and close, tightening as his breath grew swallow,
Cruel thoughts manifesting at the bottom of his scotch,
But he’d smile again a minute later and the memory was gone,
Along with the uncle she wish she never knew she had.

When her mother was drunk, she would stumble and fall,
Tripping over more than her words, but,
Her smile was never as bright as when she was half way through the bottle of wine,
And her eyes held a shine that would never see the light of day,
But morning would always come, and with it the shameful dissonance.
Her mother always hides the bruises and broken glasses well.

She had never known the effects of the drink until later in her life,
For she had seen what could happen when abuse ran in the family,
But she has come to understand the appeal of a drunken stupor,
Reality always made much more sense when her world was spinning.
She knows the harmful effects of addiction to the bottle,
But she knows she cannot function without it.
So she clings to each drop as though it held a dying prayer,
Asking those above to save her from the same path as those before her.

Painted in the Skies

Stars have always listened to the Earth and her people,
Watching silently, rising and falling with the turning of the tides,
Though don’t be fooled by the shifts in their constellations,
For the stars have stories buried deep in each point,
Filled with tales that captivate even the moon and her gravity.

These stories have shaped generations of dreamers and soul searchers,
Forever wanting the grasp what is just out of reach.
So to make Heaven a reality the stars scarified a few they called theirs,
And they fell from their divine place to crash into Earth.
Giving few the chances to wonder and believe in a fate so far from their own.

Souls and dreamers and wishful thinkers find themselves captured by falling stars,
Mesmerized by the tales they weave in the sky,
They are as old as Earth, covered in beauty and invisible scars.
Telling tales that keep our minds grounded,
But take our heart soaring with them through the skies.

Could you then explain why stars fall to Earth, my love?
Or are you too occupied by the hidden treasures of the sky?
What if Heaven was painted in the night sky?
Forever hidden to us by the light of the moons and stars,
And the false light on the Earth keeps us occupied, keeping our gaze down.

You held the same glow as the stars, once the veil in front of my eyes lifted,
But yours was too much, too hot take in all at once,
So I let myself watch you from a distance, tracing your outline though the glass,
Until I could handle the power and beauty you emanated.
And when we clashed, it was as beautiful as a galaxy forming.