were blood shot.
“I love you, but I’m tired of being afraid and I want things back to when we were younger.” Margaret cried. Tears were starting to build up in her eyes. She felt like there was a ball in her throat that she couldn’t swallow.
Matt violently grabbed her arm and threw her against the desk that was across the room. “You stupid Bitch! If you think you’re leaving me, you’re wrong. I will kill you before I let anybody else have you.” Matt yelled.
“Honey, please calm down. I want things to work between us.” She cried. She put her hand into the open drawer of the desk. She knew that Matt left a loaded revolver in the drawer. She pointed the gun at him. Matt released her arm and chuckled.
“What are you gonna do, shoot me? You don’t have the nerve to do that. You love me too much.” Matt said.
“I do, but I don’t want to be hurt anymore. I just want to be happy.” She said.
Her hand was shaking so much that she was having a hard time keeping the gun in her hand and pointed at Matt. Matt lunged for the gun. Bang!
Matt fell against the wall and fell to the ground. A streak of blood followed him down the wall. Margaret fell to her knees and cried. She had never felt so relieved before. How could she be so happy and yet so sad at the same time?
She put the gun to her head and thought to herself ‘at least nobody can ever hurt me again.’
She thought of the happiest time from high school.
She squeezed the trigger.
Reblooming
Victoria Koenig
Staring at him stung. Smearing his soul with mine only sweetened my limbic system. This pure ecstasy was beyond sexuality, it was insanity. He was at our kitchen sink washing dishes, and I handed him my empty coffee mug from breakfast. His breathing was smooth like the beating rain as I stood behind him and wrapped my arms around his waist, my heart is full. Looking at him only hurt because I was about to kill him.
The first time that I met him we were lost in a sea of sheets. He made my heart sink, and my mind float. Though my two foremost elements were in two different places, we still sat at the dinner table together. My lover had destroyed me, so I knew that I had to murder him.
Nine hundred and twelve days led to this impeccable moment. Blood trickled down his neck as my cleanest and sharpest knife was in contact with his flawless skin. The euphoric feeling as he struggled for breath is indescribable. I have a deeper affection for a brawl rather than watching a lover purr so innocently. I was not new to this. I have done this eight other times to be exact.
All my lovers were unique in their own ways. But they did have one thing in common, they were all shades of blue, and they all ended in the same shade of red. Though all my past relationships at a point were very deep and dark hues, they also had warm tones. Since they all had erratic changes in their appearance, I allowed them to feel special and loved.
How is it possible to allow pity or passion for a being that squashes, squeezes, and suppresses your existence? They only ever pulverized my passion. They gutted my insides, but I always appeared whole. But actually, being whole became a mystery. My devotees turned me into dirt, when I was once mountains. I became lava, when I was once a volcano. I am only flour, when I was once a full cake. I was a flower ready to bloom, but my lovers became droughts that never left my mind.
I granted my lovers into the deepest bones of my soul. I let them all in. They stood by me for my worst, best, and most intimate moments. My lovers slept next to me all day, and stayed up with my insomnia all night. They ate every meal with me, and they also starved with me. My followers ran miles with me, and they even screamed in the silence while no one else heard me. They even showered with me, and they even stood next to me when I neglected my hygiene. So, I guess you could say I became close to each and every one of my lovers, and that’s how you allow someone to feel special and loved.
Of course, becoming close, my devotees have taught me things. They are the ones who showed me to sleep all day, and how to become a parasite to my mattress. My lovers taught me to starve, because it would be much better to stay in bed all day. My followers ran miles in my mind, and that’s where we screamed together, because my lovers always said “you never want to become a burden on anybody else, so let’s stay in bed today.” My lovers taught me that showering and brushing my teeth isn’t essential, when you’re just going to lay in bed all day. My lovers showed me how black out curtains are the best form of sunscreen. I’ve stayed nights in with my lovers, while my friend’s feet rotated on vodka soaked dance floors. My lovers reassured me, that everything is okay.
But it wasn’t okay. I want my heart to come up from the soil, and for my mind to come back down from space. I want my two foremost elements to shake hands again. I want to become a mountain, a volcano, and a full cake. I want to run miles on the pavement, and not in my head. I want to rebel and lay on the coast of the golf with no sunscreen at all. I want my feet to rotate on vodka soaked dance floors.
I have killed all my lovers. I don’t feel an ounce of remorse, now that my mind is drought-less. Because this time, I am a flower re-blooming. And how insane would it be if my lovers were real men, and not just my depression.
414
Joyce Williams
I grew up in a city labeled for its murders and bandits,
A place where parents lower their children into the earth in caskets,
In a place that based on the color of our skin and our place of origin we live separate.
Day after day blood spills out onto the concrete as another body is gunned down in the street.
Dreams turn to nightmares as mothers fill our ears with their mournful screams.
They say we are free,
But never said we were safe.
They say that the other side is greener,
But it's all an illusion,
Because beneath the demeanor all is the same within.
Each of us is trapped under one circumstance or another,
But regardless of who we are or where we are from,
We've all got dreams we hope to fulfill,
Fighting to live in a world where it's kill or be killed.
Drowning
Joyce Williams
"No matter what."
"Through thick and thin."
"Forever and always."
"Till death do us part."
"I love you..."
Words that once had so much meaning,
now sickening.
Voices and memories screaming at me as I drown myself in wine and vodka to drive them out of my mind.
I feel the burning of the words as I drink them down.
I drink and drink until they can no longer speak.
I throw it all up.
I break the bottles and smash the mirrors.
The voices continue.
I scream as blood drips from my hands, staining the ground and then I begin to understand.
The shards of glass look so beautiful just scattered on the ground splattered with crimson, might as well take a shard and finish.
I dig deep into my arm and slide it down.
I'm bleeding...
Bleeding and drinking and thinking and fighting.
Fighting away the thoughts that consume and burn me.
You said you love me but you never did.
I pictured my future with you, dreams of having a house and even a kid.
But you lied!
You lied to me!
Left me to die! What good are those words if you're not here to save me?
And when I'm laying there in the hospital bed with fresh scars and bleeding hands, all I'll say is "because I loved a selfish man."
Goddess of the Night
Joyce Williams
In the illuminating light of her spirit,
she takes to the sky.
Her energy exploding colors across the constellations as she basks in the company of stars.
I feel her tossing and turning, lost in the images of her dreams.
When nightmares creep into her mind,
Thunder cracks the silence as lightning shatters the velvet sky.
I hold her close to me, pull her body into my core
and chant my love and affection till the demons fall back to their place of origin.
And when the nightmares cease,
my sleeping beauty returns to herself
My Goddess of everlasting love and peace.
She works her wonders on me;
nursing my broken mind as she recovers from battles with the outside and within.
Her eyes seep into mine as she searches for all of the shards that I have deserted.
Her inked fingers leave smears of her passion across my skin,
her words etching themselves into me,
urging me to listen to her poetry.
Her voice soothes me in the lullabies whenever she speaks to me as we lay under the covers.
Her lips heal me with each tender kiss, injecting me with the cure for my angered madness.
Her love seeps into the broken pieces of my spirit, the light breaking my darkness.
She sends me to nirvana.
Takes my mind to places I've only dreamed,
Assuring me that this world isn't what it seems.
Through the phases of her evolving soul,
I love her more than she will ever know.