Shadow In The Spotlight

I myself, is a victim of abuse. But not the physical kind no. I am a victim of betrayal by those I trust the most, and doesn’t that hold the same degree of pain, maybe even worse? For bruises may heal, and the sting of a slap stops beating if you count a hundred mississippis, but I swear to God the clenching of your heart doesn’t go away even if you tried. God knows I have.

Words have this way of drawing you out, that’s why you sometimes catch your breath when you make a point, but if you ran out of points to make, where do you go?

It’s like I’ve been stabbed repeatedly even when I sleep and I can’t even distinguish raindrops from my tears I have only so much trust to give, and yet they took it for granted scathingly, with scorn, with an undisguised level of contempt. They define abuse as something when someone treats another with cruelty repeatedly– but this is more than cruel.

My heart, already hardened by frozen cigarettes and unwritten words, tied to a fragile leash of positivity, destroyed and to unmake such damage is a feat nearly impossible, no matter how much ink I bleed.

Do they even have therapy for trust abuse? I wonder how many hours I will spend when I sing the song of how my faith is broken, how it feels to drown in the look of their eyes as I found out, how transparent their apologies are

And to hope, to hope to start the cycle of weaving the last strands of my confidence, to practice waking up without squinting at the brightness of day, on how to look directly in someone’s eyes and not dwell on their shadows, the thought makes me numb

I love the way you sleep.

I love the way your breath gradually slows into a steady, peaceful pace while you're on the journey amidst your inner consciousness.

I love the way you succumb to the heaviness of your eyes while resting beneath my shoulder blades.

I love the way your body curves around mine when we're lying together, a perfect symmetry, with the rhythm of our heartbeats the only witness.

I love the way how peaceful you look, and even though I know you're far away with eyes shut, you always close every space between us, as if your tether to reality is the heat of my skin, the strands of my hair, the feel of my touch.

I love the way you peel off your hard shell and let me embrace your vulnerability. You've let yourself open to me more than anyone, and I swear I sometimes see this tiny light emanating off of you-- the pinpoint of your existence, and you've given me permission sometimes to take a peek.

Such raw emotions, our physical poetry, yet the only things to cure these thunderstorms rumbling in my chest.

Mahal, I love the way you sleep. Most importantly, I love the way you sleep when you're with me.

Their smoke made of Nicotine and regret

I sometimes count the breaths I take and wonder How many I have left

I embrace the scalding words That describe me and think They made me blessed