Internal screaming, blood stained tears.
Iron tasting tears.
So internal- So scarring and tattered.
A new beginning, fresh faces, porcelain facades.
Danger creeping on the lips of an angel.
To my shock? Not so much- yet dismayed at the approach.
A primary battle, one of never ending disagreement.
She says the vision is crystal,
Yet - blurred it is,
Rain claiming the silence on the windowsill.
Bleeding.
Internally bleeding, yet it will subside.
Screams escape the silent lips through unseen tears.
Acceptance revokes my persuasion.
Mes mots sont vrais.
Experience seems vital in this bound story.
Empty pages drip with crimson ink.
Your eyes scream stories of pain
and greed of strangers' hands.
But you my dear, have yet to see or hear
my wounds so deep.
It's not a war at best,
or peace at very worst.
We're equally effected -
Different scenarios- Blood. Scream. Pain.
Internally conflicted, wounded, shamed.
The tears of past reflections, cast moonlight in the rearview mirror.
I kiss away your depth, while I cage my deepest fear.
I want to scream, to cry, to kick-
To love.
You.
My strength will not fail.
Someday I want your arms to blanket me, in warmth-With belief and understanding.
To scream, to bleed.
What a beautiful thing.
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