they preach martyrdom but have never worn this crown. they scream, "let me take your sorrows," but only to those who are worthy. they repeat love and fear but have never feared to love for the fear of loving so much it becomes fearful to lose. they have never destroyed who they are to become someone else, built up new. who am i? that is what you tell me. i kill me over and over for you! not to lose you, or to fear loving so i do not love again! these thorns rip at my head and beg for blood. the iron, ironic, pooling from my mouth as the Lord cries, "bleed more! more for me," and the devil rips at my heart. i have fallen in and out of what they tell me isn't love but i made her me, and she said it is. the devil said it is. the Lord just laughs, He says it's putrid; i am here to pour the life out of me and not to fight who i don't know that i am.
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eleven ten
Poesíaa series of missed wishes, missed time, those missed. cover photo by me
