Writing

You’re not ready.

If the silver slice returned to this pale white skin, the unpredictable damage would merely reject you. Drag you further away from this crumpled mess of defeat.

Let the blade draw back the curtains that mask the demons within this crimson river. Flowing through the channels of insanity, the unconscious poison winding within the blood stream.

Pumping through withering veins, infecting a battered heart and snaking through this brain. A crimson sludge leaving traces of decay along every passageway throughout this bludgeoned body.

Each echoing heartbeat is merely a reminder that he let you live, forcing you to revisit those late nights where you once had no escape except to play dead. Let him get in your head. He’s got you under the thumb ready to strike the second you move, just pray you stay numb.

An escape bolted shut. The windows too high. Before you hit the floor those sickening tears line his cheeks, as if pumped from thin air, where’d they come from? No one cares. He’s waiting. Staking out the next victim, lining up his words, as if reaching for an Oscar, he’d have a handful sooner than Leo made his first.

Instead of him on the stage let’s bring back that old blade, like the sun on the sea it’s catching each light, like a glimmer of hope that still wants you to fight. Those brown eyes refusing to burn out, anticipating the day your heart sets on fire, waiting for the one who will gift you desire.

If the blood breaks through the dam of your skin, build it back up before you let him win. Your heart and your soul were not his to claim, but each blow knocked them out of you, with no end to the pain. There’s only one option when it’s time to recover, pull the gun from your temple and hold on for another. The pain won’t last for as long as you might, but his pride goes unharmed if you won’t kick back and fight.

Your place is reserved on earth and in space, no one can remove you once you’ve set your own pace. Let each thought meander through the stream in your head, cast aside the danger that lays in your hands, you’re not ready for the end, so mind how you tread.

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