#writist

& found a piece of me I buried deep inside.

You’d think by now they’d both know better, from fables they were told together.

Sure enough, nestled ‘neath the forrest’s blouse, rest a worn down cottage house.

Chimney smoke filled the foggy air, a woman by the door with a piercing stare.

Her voice soothing and enticing, her tone ever so inviting,

lured Sam & Susie deep within, inside the cottage house of sin.

She said “My Forrest is for lost boys and girls, the lost boys and girls all over the world.”

She said “You’re just in time for stew, and in luck, I’ve room for two.”

Before Sam and Susie knew, they found themselves boiling in a witch’s brew.

they shared a daylily field by the sea.

Peacefully they came and went,

all simply for the succulence.

He‘d rest in his nest, she’d confide in her hive,

together they made the flowers thrive.

One day the humming bird said to the bee “I bet your wings don’t buzz like me.”

So they hummed and they buzzed,

and they fought just because.

‘Til the honeybee looked up and said, “Our daylily field is withered and dead.”

She mourned his loss as I spat on his grave, another abusive fuck up nobody could save.

He fucked with your head, all the teardrops you shed. He used you and he wanted you dead.

As I lie in wait for a glance or a stare, though his loss is all which you seemed to care.

I know all wounds take time to heal but you don’t even care, you don’t even feel.

You’re a gluten for punishment as I stand in astonishment.

I fucking hate the men you loved, as god is my witness above.

And I carry the baggage, you’re a genuine savage for having the balls to put me through the shit you do. Between the pain and misery I find it a mystery that I keep loving you the way I do though it feels you just don’t love me too.

The walls in my house are narrowing as you remember his loss by smoking heroin.

FUCK THAT GUY FOREVER, AND I HOPE I SEE HIM NEVER.

AABB//AABB

I could speak about the time we met,

or of the beautiful moments we both had spent.

I could drag on about the time when you were slowly becoming mine, or the flowers and fires that buried our minds.

You are everything to me: good, bad, sad and happy. The sensations are waves flowing aptly.

If only you could see me now, oh how I would make you proud.

If good times are shortly snuffed by bad,

then let’s savor them both and be happily mad.

For Netanya Ferrara.

AAAABBBB

AAAABBBB

-DJF