Turn Back The Clock

  

Daylight snuck its way around the thick curtains

As if trying to offer some minute glimmer of hope

Its efforts futile as a clown at a funeral

And equally unwelcome

Oblivious to the wintry elements

I lie naked on the floor

If I had been trampled by a herd of rhinos

I could not feel more pain

My limbs steeped in concrete

My eyes only move

The sleeping figure with the smile 

On his pulchritudinous lips, fixates me

Abject revulsion fights unconditional love

As I blink repeatedly 

In the vain yet fruitless hope

Of an alternate reality

Exhausted, my mind struggles to accept

What my body knows with great clarity

In all my dreams, fantasies, desires I never saw this

I replay the scene relentlessly in my head

Desperate for another explanation

A dam of shock only restrains my tears

As I close my eyes and pray 

For this ‘Happy New Year’ to start over again.

Losing You

 

Razor blades rip

At the edges of my soul

Tearing it further apart

With each movement

No matter how I try

Elastoplast or stitches

Cannot fix me this time 

The blade has plunged too deep

Seems there was a heart 

In the abyss

A black heart

…now haemhorraging 

Remorselessly 

To its bitter bloodied end

© Broken Blackheart Dec, 2015
 

End of The Line

  

Hit the end of the line

With an almighty thwack

Exhausted reaching

For stars

That shine with glittering vibrance

Only to scorch indelibly

Like 1000 volt shocks

Their beauty and sparkle 

Betraying hidden dangers

My fire extinguisher empty

Heat-proof gloves incinerated 

I now lie scarred

In the ashes

Of who I once was

Without memories

Far less desire 

For their torturous return


© Blackheart July, 2015

 

End of The Line

  

Hit the end of the line

With an almighty thwack

Exhausted reaching

For stars

That shine with glittering vibrance

Only to scorch indelibly

Like 1000 volt shocks

Their beauty and sparkle 

Betraying hidden dangers

My fire extinguisher empty

Heat-proof gloves incinerated 

I now lie scarred

In the ashes

Of who I once was

Without memories

Far less desire 

For their torturous return.

 

© Blackheart July, 2015