Monday, July 1, 2013

... because of the monsters under my bed .


eyes swollen from
carrying the weight of
heavy tears.
nights swallowed by
the hauntings of ghosts
that aren't too friendly
misery likes to host
parties in my closet
and dance till the day is done
with my skeletons .
i've had monsters 
living underneath by bed
since i can remember
but those childhood scares
could never compare
to the deafening blares
of my dark nightmares
you could never survive them
you would drown in the 
melancholy records that spin
on the tongues of
hopeless romantics.
my last love was a savage.
i guess you can say
i've always been attracted
to danger.
infatuated by the thrill.
the villains always seem
to want to love me.
its true 
they see an innocence in me
that they lack
and wish they could get back 
so they try to destroy it
before it destroys them
because memories kill
and reminiscing is suicide
so i find myself in these
tangled webs of wanting to love
and wanting to run.
serial killers like to watch
their victims suffer
and if pain is love
than i've been smothered
but these days
my skin is a little rougher
my heart is a little tougher
and all the demons
that have always haunted my dreams
are slowly beginning to look like
beautiful angels.
you would think i'd be afraid
but i've been conquering monsters
since i was little and they were
hiding underneath my bed . 
your fangs do not scare me.

love - tianamonique

4 comments:

Kiana said...

Bravo. Lovely write, great imagery in this piece!

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Indigo said...

beautifully written. So descriptive and lively.