Amanda

If I could I would say those three words I fear to write it would make it true  So to speak it is out of the question  But for you I will clarify the words  My thoughts are not constantly about you No

I knew she would come Steadily pacing in the awkward silence Among the quicken pluses  She found her place  Between the gazes  In the glistening orbs Where eyes locked in a shared understanding   I knew she was here  Lingering in the shy touches  Where the skin met the other   In

Bitter yet so sweet   How could you fall for a woman like me?  Broken, is that how you like them? You know nothing of my scars  I could show you, but you would have to unravel my skin Would it be easier to tell? I suppose,

My anger  It is not like any other  Its untold fate, now can you discover  With a burning lump I swallow the rage  Yet it creeps up freed from its cage    My anger Oh how it grows in faith  Fed the cries of the oppressed left in

My heart is a rock  I wail as I am frustrated  My body lays as a block  Thee keeps me understated  It is why I despise to stare If thee is a spell, I cast it away  So afraid that I would glare  All day long I

They know not why you hide That which you suppress Those emotions that lay deep inside But why then do you oppress For you take what is not rightfully yours  The very thing that is promised to another  So why despise his endeavours  For this, your heart

Broken-hearted painter Loving in-spite the endless colours slashed vigorously across the canvas.  Tormenting the layers of that which protects what is truly vulnerable, crying out from the harsh bristles evokes the true passion from within.  Hoisted with the firm grip on the ferrule,

Survival Survival? Such a plain word. But what does it mean?  Living. Existing. Is it both? Puzzled by this word, I think of one. A loved one. Is it possible to survive without one? Survival? I ponder again. What does it mean? Then I understand. It means living through loss,