Red Tears

12/30/2012

 
Not from my eyes are they forming
Not rolling my cheek, adorning
The leave of silvery trails aren’t falling
They are red and from a river this morning

Gathered in beads of rippling pain
Shattering from a now split vein
Down pallor skin of reddened shame
Thoughts now stolen in some sick game

Biting sting of sharpened blade
Singing hum of pulse does fade
Violent thoughts of death lend aid
Screaming voice of tears is made
RedTears

You Own Him

12/30/2012

 
When you snug­gle closer 
and purr in your sleep, 
you are his kitten

When you kneel between his legs 
grace­fully accept­ing the band around your throat, 
you are his girl

When you squirm across his lap, 
your tush rosy red and tin­gling with inti­macy, 
you are his brat

When you rub your­self all over him 
leav­ing liq­uid pas­sion in your trail, 
you are his slut

When you devour him deeply, pleas­ing him, 
solely there for his enter­tain­ment, 
you are his whore

When you growl and strain against your leash, 
hump­ing his leg for release, 
you are his bitch

When you sur­ren­der to his strength, his power, 
when you sac­ri­fice your body on the altar of his desire, 
you are his prey

When you stay still, quiv­er­ing, unspeak­ing, 
your only pur­pose to be used, to be mounted, 
you are his female

And still…

When you melt into his arms 
and lean your head against his chest 
and whis­per quietly,

“I am yours”

At that moment, 
you own him.

Scarlet Tears

11/1/2012

 
Fires ablaze within my eyes,
A smile concealing all my lies,
Screaming, begging, calling out,
A final, frantic, desperate, shout.

Scarlet tears drip from each vein,
A vehement covet to end this pain,
This silver blade, stays by my side,
Because all hope inside has died.

As each day ends, and darkness draws,
The devil toys, with all my flaws,
I'm helpless, alone, a worthless mess,
A broken child, he must address.

I'm tempted when he calls my name,
A way out, an escape, an end to shame,
To make it feel a lot less real,
A deal with the Devil, in blood must I seal.

They'll say I died of suicide,
But no one knows how much they've lied,
It wasn't a rope, a blade, or pills,
That broke my soul, and gave me chills.

I died inside so long before,
To live each day, an endless chore,
Pills could not kill what was already dead,
A twisted soul, an empty head.

In darkness I wait, in silence, alone,
Rose-tinted nostalgia, all around me has grown,
I beckon the devil, with the key of self-harm,
And I open the door for him, with the blood of my arm.
Coran Darling