Lioness

Photo courtesy of wallpapercave.com

 

I took another sip from the mug.

The sound of liquid circled whistling waves inside the tunnel.

The colors were crystal now—

Beautiful orange hues that reflected bronze under the lit sky.

I held onto the cup and zoned out momentarily and traveled down memory lane.

My cheeks reddened the closer we got to the front of the house.

A family lived there and the neighbors overheard glass shattering and a woman screaming.

My hands clenched the mug as my mind pushed me closer inside.

She sounded angry, her voice bit into my mind.

The tiny hairs on my arms rose and I felt flushed.

I could hear the tiny cracks when she spoke.

He said nothing only blanched as her voice rose another octave.

He couldn’t hear what she was saying.

He was too busy trying to think of the next thing that he wanted to say.

He never tried to understand her.

She was a wounded lioness.

Her heart bled and he never wept.

Wounds reopened and scars never healed.

She refused to die this way— trapped inside a hell, completely void of life.

Little by little, I felt my body pulling away.

The weight within my chest lifted with ease as I searched through the debris.

I told myself I’d never go through that again.

With time, old wounds will heal.

Marionette

Photo courtesy of crystallyna.deviantart.com

She told herself a thousand times to take a drive.

Both hands on the steering wheel, she placed her foot on the peddle.

She didn’t go anywhere, the smoke never cleared.

This wasn’t what she envisioned.

Driving wasn’t her calling, yet she’d die a hundred times just to make them happy. 

That’s how it started, her path to self-loathing.

Her heart told her no and her brain said keep going.

Relationship after failed relationship, she tried to fix them.

Mold them into the perfect specimen.

No amount of sex, drugs or alcohol could make her love them.

Deep down she knew he wasn’t the one and yet she tried to save him.

She pulled him from the ledge and took it upon herself to tend to his wounds.

His scars mirrored her own.

He could never love her the way she wanted.

He could never hold  her the way she needed.

She put up a shield to make her stronger.
The sun counteracted the spell which made her weaker.

It dimmed her light, but it was still inside.

She watched herself strategically climb over the wires, careful not to set off the alarms.

A precious treasure awaited her on the other side.

Her heart murmured momentarily and that’s when she knew.

It wasn’t them.

It was you.

Picture

In a picture I can see every crevice of your face.

The hue of your eyes, even the partial dimple on your chin.

In a picture I can see your hair, the curls that spring.

The smile you made, forever imprinted on my mind.

A picture holds a thousand pixels to pass on for years to come.

I wish I had one to hold on to, minus the feeling of longing buried deep inside of me still throbbing.

I can’t escape the regret—it follows me even while I dream.

If there was a drug that could turn back time I would have been more carefree.

I would have kept it simple.

I fought too long and I loved too deep.

I never saw the headlights coming.

I never knew I was drowning.

If I had a picture I would cherish it.

I would remember your face and cherish it harder.