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the grip of the gun brings you a feeling far greater than the grip of me and yet you still reach for me and pretend I and here is where you live but I know that this in between is merely just a place where you sleep the blood & the bones
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A bull in life’s china shop Destroying love Destroying hope Breaking the fragile and and myself All at once the blood & the bones
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and as it sits, ever more on the tip of my tongue I refuse to speak it, to utter the name of the one who took life from me yet left me breathing I won’t say it for fear I might speak it and lose all thats left of this even pain can be held…
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a black heartdressed in mourninggrieving the deathof unrequited lovebut will you tell mepleasehow do I bury an empty coffin?how do I lay to rest what never was? the blood& the bones
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was it not enough that you stained my lipsthat your touch was tattooed on my skinforever marking medid you have to drill yourselfinto my fucking bonesand sink into my marrowruining the very makeup of who I ambecoming so much of my existencethat I am not sure where you end and I beginstill I pleadlet me…
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I loved him while he loved you we made the best of it as liars often do the blood & the bones
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Some of my post will shock you. I will lose followers. People will feel disgusted, ashamed and appalled. And some will feel accepted, aroused and will happily dive into the warmth of resonation. I am not writing and sharing and bleeding myself out because I want to win a popularity contest. It isn’t and never…
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what good is this poetry .. if I did not die a thousand times to give it to you? the blood & the bones
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this rage could sink a million ships I climb the sails of it the cannons begging to roar and yet I press on a pirate of the men born from watching what war destroys the blood & the bones
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The Blood & The Bones 