Human skin is stained with out torment and smiles. Memories of falling; physically and figuratively.

There are no words to express my deepest remorse and regret at hurting you. For the love I have for you is significant and the connection we share encompasses the strength of a blood soaked spider web. Dripping with its wounds yet durable against all else. Your love seeps into my heart and I cannot help but feel its warmth, a comfort I surely do not deserve. My love saturated spirit cries for you but must resist the temptation to comfort your abrasion. Even if I were to try, it would only cause you more pain and I could not bear the repercussions.

To the one I have broken.

I offer you these words, to show that my heart is not black and that my selfishness has not gone unseen. When I look upon your sad smile, I can only think to myself how lucky I am that it is not a grimace of hatred. I could understand your silence towards me, if that were the path you chose.

To the one I have broken.

Time will heal you and I can only hope you allow me to be there when it does. I wish to see you smile again, with little worry in your eyes, and a starry hope printed on your cheeks.

To the one I have broken.

I’m sorry.

I’m standing on a dune, staring up at the great grey blanket. 
What would be called lightning to the ignorant mind 
streaks the sky, and I feel the strain that has fallen upon me. 

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Another medicated mess,
married to the finely
crushed chemicals and
soured honey dripping
capsules.

A powered doughnut, filled
with sweet balanced brain
and finely ground seratonin
sprinkled over the body.

Until you take the first bite;
the filling seeps out in a
disappointing downpour and
only an empty body is left
coated in “happiness.”

(Source: raywoman.deviantart.com)

No matter how much you paint the canvas of your face, the truth will burn the medium. Smothering ashes on the newly painted facade, wiped clean only by the tears of shame.

(Source: raywoman.deviantart.com)

I do not wish to exist in this world any longer.
The particles of my being will part and explode.
Burning up into an ash of infinite loss.
This ash will cause your eyes to sting with remorse.

This flourish of tears will abruptly cease.
They will disintegrate as the winds carry them off.
An imprint of confusion left in their place.
You will hear my scream amongst your perplexity.

Notes reverbrating from my vocal chords will waver.
Crawling out of your ear canal they will collapse and disperse.
Struggling to fly away and be a part of freedom’s daydream.
Brushing past you they will invoke memories.

These memories will lift themselves from your mind.
They too will vanish into the promise of oblivion.
Such a void will erase my impression on humanity.
And I will forever be lost to remembrance.

(Source: raywoman.deviantart.com)

Let your mind break free,
wander among insanity for a little while.
Admire the melting eyeballs,
sitting in the periwinkle and ruby red trees.
They won’t judge you in the slightest;
eyes don’t really see the truth anyway.

They bat their eyelashes three times,
and disappear in a puddle of tears.
Then you come back to reality,
only to see spots of wetness on paper.

“Fuck this.”
And there she goes,
undone and perfectly sane.

(Source: raywoman.deviantart.com)

Children’s laughter in a bottle aging like fine wine.
To drink it in reveals spirits and images unseen by adult minds.
Tears of crows feet fall onto the pacifier of time. 
Sucking the imagination out of beings of every kind.

Dead skin peels back to reveal pink songs of youth,
forgotten behind time’s painting of seasons.
Carefree thoughts, Christmas lists, and messy fingers, trapped
within nuclei of worry and doubt seep from each new lesion.

(Source: raywoman.deviantart.com)

Memories and experience of the day dripping into dreams, like scum. Freud called it day residue, slimy and calm, covering the fantastic image of what could be. Mouldy secrets and broken promises rotting beneath smiles. It creeps over mementos, words, letters, and it crawls up my arms into my brain. It feeds on happy memories and spits on the vision of a happy future.

(Source: raywoman.deviantart.com)

Going insane silently. Whispering
secrets to the walls and hoping the
dried red paint doesn’t give me
away.

Or was it the bedsheets that hold
my insanities? I’m not so sure
anymore. The pillows won’t stop
laughing and it’s choking me a
little.

But the door is definitely looking
at me funny, and it seems to be
shrinking.

The breathing underneath the bed
however, is what frightens me the
most.

The room is alive with my
weakness.

(Source: raywoman.deviantart.com)