January Whatever.

II guess they call this a new beginning.

And I guess I'm supposed to dry my tears

With last years handkerchief, throw it away

And pretend like the bruises on my heart

Don't exist and that the evil words that were spoken

Aren't still rotting in my minds closet.

Pretend like i'm not exhausted from running around

Stereotypes, and expectations, and love affairs,

This is unfair.

With the truth comes despair,

And i'm living in a constant state of misery.

It's filling me to the brim; even though the light is dim,

I can still feel him.

Breathing poison down my throat as he fucks and chokes.

Trying to cover up sins with jokes, blowing smoke to fog my vision.

It used to be so clear.

[I feel like i'm just rewriting the same thing

With new words and it's becoming redundant.]

I guess I was supposed to write something

That blossomed.

I suppose it would be nice to read something

Less dark.

Less dramatic.

Maybe some romantic shit.

Spit something light so your conscience

Doesn't ache when you read these lines.

I'm fine; I just have wounds that haven't been addressed yet.

Do you know what it's like

To have your scars on display?

I guess they say its pathetic and not poetic.

And I guess being yourself isn't what they're looking for.

And I guess that when you try to argue

Your way out of the truth then you're just a lie.

And why is that every time I try and convince myself

That this is how it's supposed to be, I cry.

I always wonder how many times you can die.

I guess heaven is supposed to be where it ends,

And I guess being a saint ain't as easy as the bible said,

So HELLo to lucifer, and the goblins, and walking dead.

Words are poisonous.

And they will eat away at your memories until

They are engraved into your skin.

Because they don't ever want you to forget.

So they leave reminders.

The shadows that we call love never fade.

You're never quite the same after you've

Experienced high volumes of pain.

So blame the boys with the pretty eyes,

And the ones with the cool disguise.

Blame the pretty girls who make funny faces

And blame the crazy chicks with tattoos; the nut cases.

Blame the photo's and memories.

Blame the rebirth and the remedies.

Blame music and the quotes.

Blame the self medications and home grown antidotes.

Because I said this was for the beginning.

But it's not.

It's just the same thing.

The same poem.

The same words.

And the same damn darkness i've been living in.

Breathing the love I guess I never earned.

I'm starting to doubt whether or not the sun was stolen from me,

Or maybe it just walked away.

Time is supposed to heal all wounds

And I'm becoming impatient.

I'm not saying my smile is fake

But these frowns have never faded.

These jaded thoughts are taking over

And love just isn't the same.

And where did the passion go?

Sometimes I feel like I don't want to be touched.

I feel violated by hugs and kisses, because i've witnessed

The ugliest relationships by touching.

Fucking is just rape with class.

Sex is shit to do to make time pass.

And making love is a thing of the past.

Because love never lasts.

Never will; never has.

Love, Tianamonique