He had bright eyes that poured sunlight into his skin
because his flesh 
could never retain the youth his soul encompassed.
Nature wore him down to the bones
and maybe that’s how we are born 
and maybe that’s how we leave…

through the dirt.
Adam was never a clean man to begin with
and somehow he still birthed us with bacteria in our veins.
We were never clean to begin with.

She always felt dirty
as if her hands were ruined with the imprint of his touch
and the lines that kissed her palms sagged,
emulating the way his wrinkles spelled out stories.

Macbeth is her favorite one
because Shakespeare glorified impurity
and all she ever wanted was reassurance stapled to her lungs
so she could exhale confidence
instead of suffocating in anxiety.
She knew this was going to happen.
She just didn’t know when.

Her cosmic gaze would always remind you 
of how close they would be to his sun-ray orbs
since their genetics are a galaxy God carefully strung together Himself.
They were beautiful.
Whenever she blinked, 
her eyelashes always told you to handle with care
because she knew she was fragile
maybe even more than him
and I knew she was a package that was delivered already broken.

I just wanted to put her back together again
because maybe if I reassembled her,
she’d remember that she was always the finest piece of China.

My parents believed that they were gardeners
so they planted seeds of faith into my soil
that sprouted into religion and blossomed into an everlasting love for God
I was a flower that was baptized into the garden of Catholicism
and I remember the time when I dated an atheist

who insisted that he would one day become a tree
since forests are the graveyards of nonbelievers
Each niche in the wood would tally his sins 
as if he wore his scars as a trenchcoat

His gaze was heavy with lust
and when he spoke, 
his words held onto me
like I was a nun being touched for the first time

His was always envious of my pillows
because they listened to my secrets
and held my dreams captive.
He believed that I had affairs when I was asleep
because they flirted with my thoughts at night.

He breathed logic into my lungs
and 
when he put his mouth on mine
it felt as if the devil was performing CPR on my beliefs.

He suffocated me with temptation
and exchanged my faith
for what I thought was freedom.
I always thought religion was a prison
and that I was shackled by the New Testament

God was no longer my anchor
and I was now sailing on the waves of sin.
I became seasick with self-corruption for him
Curse words were tattooed on the corners of my lips
and I was taught a thousand different ways to say ‘disrespect’ to my parents
It was as if all my conversations were written in caps lock
and for some reason, 
I thought that the hands that fed me actually tasted divine
I spat lies to them as if I was convincing myself to believe them.

6 months later,
He started coming home Sunday afternoons
and said that he was called in for work
He ate dinner after moments of silence
and kissed me with honesty.
He 
tasted like innocence.

I walked in on him reciting prayers in bed one night
moaning Mary’s name
that was full of grace.
He said Amen instead of goodbye
when I ran out of the door
and drew invisible crosses on his body
as if he was trying to forgive himself.
He never apologized for cheating on me with God.

I didn’t know that ex-non-believers could pray and betray at the same time

I wore shame around my neck
in the form of a rosary
but to me,
it was a religious noose.

My gun was loaded with the bibles pages
and defeat was pulling the trigger
I repented with the pistol to my head
because I believed that death would be my salvation
and that living is my sin

I had committed a religious suicide
so I could die for my own sins
and that’s when God resurrected my faith

I once fell in love with an atheist
who insisted that he would one day become a tree

since forests are the graveyards of nonbelievers
Each niche in the wood would tally his sins 
as if he wore his scars as a trenchcoat

His gaze was heavy with lust
and when he spoke,
his words held onto me
like I was a nun being touched for the first time

His was always envious of my pillows
because they listened to my secrets
and held my dreams captive.
He believed that I had affairs when I was asleep
because they flirted with my thoughts at night.

He breathed logic into my lungs
and 
when he put his mouth on mine
it felt as if the devil was performing CPR on my beliefs.

He suffocated me with temptation
and exchanged my faith
for what I thought was freedom.
I always thought religion was a prison
and that I was shackled by the New Testament

God was no longer my anchor
and I was now sailing on the waves of sin.
I became seasick with self-corruption for him
Curse words were tattooed on the corners of my lips
and I was taught a thousand different ways to say ‘disrespect’ to my parents
It was as if all my conversations were written in caps lock
and for some reason,
I thought that the hands that fed me actually tasted divine
I spat lies to them as if I was convincing myself to believe them.

He started coming home Sunday afternoons
and said that he was called in for work
He ate dinner after moments of silence
and kissed me with honesty.
He 
tasted like innocence.

I walked in on him reciting prayers in bed one night
moaning Mary’s name
that was full of grace.
He said Amen instead of goodbye
and drew invisible crosses on his body
as if he was trying to forgive himself.
He never apologized for cheating on me with God.

I wore shame around my neck
in the form of a rosary
but to me,
it was a religious noose.

My gun was loaded with the bibles pages
and defeat was pulling the trigger
I repented with the pistol to my head
because I believed that death would be my salvation
and that living is my sin

I had committed a religious suicide
so I could die for my own sins
and that’s when God resurrected my faith

The life that I live I feel is not one to call my own

I’ve been trapped by the boundaries of obedience
cornered by the relentlessness of disrespect
because I need to be my own person

But these puppet strings are like a noose of dependence, 
slowly suffocating me until the life that I wish to call my own is dead and barren
Like the shadow of you that I’ve been compelled to live in

And I cannot speak unless I am spoken to
provoking your own words to seep into the hollow cavities of me
injecting control into my gums until my roots have been decayed

You pulled each and every one of my strings with stubbornness;
I had no option but to move in that given direction because
you
were my technical creator

I long for the days where I can finally break free from these shackles of dominance
but these strings on my back are like a crucifix
a burden that I have to carry 

These nails have hammered defeat into my wrists
and my spine has been fashioned into the backbone of a white flag,
forcing me to stand erect when
I already have been annihilated

Have you ever witnessed a puppet defeat its own master? 

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theaudacitytobebeautiful:

[For the longest, I was told not to write about love and with metaphors, but I was told that that was my style; my strong suit, and to fck what I was told. I was advised to do what I do best and so I did. I wrote about love and I didn’t at the same time. This was inspired when I went to Vegas. It…

Definitely bringing this one to New York with me

[For the longest, I was told not to write about love and with metaphors, but I was told that that was my style; my strong suit, and to fck what I was told. I was advised to do what I do best and so I did. I wrote about love and I didn’t at the same time. This was inspired when I went to Vegas. It just so happens that I bumped into a handsome gentleman while I was there and then I realized that my poem was evidentially about him. haha.]

Don’t fall in love with a boy in Vegas
because chances are,
he will gamble your feelings into stardust
while he sweeps you off your feet
and say that they’re trapped in the neon signs
that border the city
as if wearing your heart on your sleeve
wasn’t advertisement enough

He will leave your chest cavity vacant
much like his hollow words that leave you fragile
like the cheap jewelry he adorned you with
because to him,
that is all you are worth

He will be irresistibly smooth like the drink he ordered for you that
strategically
flirted with your taste buds 
He will lick the insides of your cheekbones dry with charm
as if he’s carefully tracing your insecurities with his tongue
and park his compliments into you like a valet 
You are just a service to him
as you swoon with envy for the woman that actually ties him down

He’ll look at you with parenthesis
as if you’re supposed to fill in the gap
You are a just a footnote
in his paragraph:
A thought almost complete enough to make sense with the rest of the story

He will whisper his table of contents into your ear
and italicize your hips
with emphasis
and you’ll moan his title into the sheets
He’ll pry your bible open
until you beg for forgiveness
then baptize you into an entirely new religion
He’ll crucify you in all the right places

But he won’t remember your name in the morning
and you’ll wake up feeling like a crumpled piece of paper
that he shredded with disdain

In the trash can,
you’ll find a used condom
full of trust, commitment;
everything he promised to give you
but didn’t