Breaking Commandments: Part 1

The blood inches its way down slowly, slowly until it reaches your lips.  You’ve never tasted your own; it’s tart, cold, unfriendly.  Your dumbfounded expression creates your pause.  You stand shoulder width apart, shoulders back, head down letting your red body ink drip from your face.  A stronger masculinity has never been seen, more danger in one being has never been contained and yet you have been struck; weakened by my small form with one heavy swing.  You smear the blood from your face with the back of your hand and search the room, but I am gone.

I took your pause as my getaway and started down the hardwood stairs.  I freeze at the first landing to listen for your approach.  I drape myself over the rail to catch my breath, but am quickly reminded of my pulsing intruder.  Five inches into my abdomen are the serrated edges of our wedding kitchen cutlery, which laughs in mockery at where my smooth, tan flesh once lied.  In this moment I can’t help but think how smart I was for choosing mahogany; at least these bloodstains won’t appear as apparent as if we had gone with the oak floors.

Your anger unleashes as I hear you scream.  Heavy footprints are closing in and I am in no hiding place.  Across the dining room I stumble and into the foyer.  I reach for the keys but a hesitation tells me I won’t make it to the car.  Whose idea was this rural living crap?  The safety of a neighbors yard is a distant dream, but the flickering street lamps might give me time to take cover.  I sprint across the green grass holding my stomach and gritting my teeth.  I dive into the warm air of our wheat field.

For a moment, I forget my pain and lay my back against the soft soil.  The spiders and rodents that once haunted me in this field are little to fear tonight.  The sky is cloudless and bright like the polka dots on my dress, so I search the stars for Andromeda.  She stares down at me with a sympathetic gaze; both chained for so long, both itching for our freedom—tonight we are soul sisters.  I feel her on my side and my fear begins to disapparate.

Pray, Prey

Problem?  Was that dissatisfaction towards me?

You create me and you take me, such power you have.

This power is used against us, out of what, boredom?

The simplicity where you lie could not compare

to the entertainment of our world;

you had to come mess things up

just to keep yourself amused?

Before you came, I never had a reason to be mad,

never had a fault I was fearful of.  Call me a sinner,

but I rather had walked in the light and burned for it later

than sat in the corner and sulked.  Since we are all forgiven,

what shame should we carry on our shoulders?

Don’t threaten me with your authority;

I’m not here by choice so I choose to be cross.

Is there a rule saying we must be cooperative?

Good Lord, so soon—did you have to steal me so soon?

I was still in the middle of list making my risk taking.

The curiosities in my mind are sure to come about

after the confusion and denial diminish,

but questioning isn’t permitted.

We all spend our lifetime searching for the unexplained

to find out it’s a cheap trick; a lonely man stuck out of sight.

But someone comes to take us, so I assumed it was true.

Now face to face with my maker, the puzzle comes into view.

Love, as true as blue.

I can’t paint about love

because I’ve never seen it.

Its pinks, grays and in-between shades

I’ve never dipped my brush.

My canvas is bare; its rough white fibers

fight their neighbor for a parallel resting place.

The easel erect, the brushes unwet,

dive bristle first into pigment and oil,

bobbing and blending until they decide their fate.

What color shall thou grace us with?

Blue—as deep as the ocean, as fare and as true,

this blue is bluer, than blue is blue.

The nonsensical ramblings of a painter’s stroke

on canvas lay your brushes yoke.

At last, at last a masterpiece.

Monet, Renoir shall feel defeat.

For finally, a love that’s truer than true,

as blue is as blue, as blue is blue.

One Morning

There is a car,
unfamiliar to memory,

so it gets a second glance.
I cross the threshold like I do every morning and remove my suede shoes.

My joyful steps upon entrance are quickly diverted to hushed tones.
I whisper across the floor and down the steps one

                                                                        by one

                                                                           by one.

Happy friends dress quietly behind closed doors.

The laughter and loyalty of language is a hospitable banter.

I knock.
You arrive at the door with a scare in your sight—

visions of last night in your eyes.

The air reeks of your tangled bodies;
it knocks me out.

I’m speechless—inside I scream.

Her puzzled look is imperfection,

but I think it’s her usual appearance.

I lay my hands on you in an unfamiliar affection.

I don’t use words, just one.

Pick up my feet— I run.

Run from you and your flaking promises,

past the house we built, and every memory I dare to ditch.

I slow my pace somewhere between our town and the next.

I double over;
I’ve been cut in two.

There’s no surviving this.
It’s a pain I can’t contain

and it spills over into rage.
You aren’t quick on the move,

but you come after me
to bring a half-ass apology as bait.

Excuses aren’t excused
and I’m in no mood for sympathy.

If you can find it in your heart, you will let me go,

let me go on living in this misery.

Your conflicting personalities have worn me out;

lover or fighter—you can’t be both

and you have lost your balance too many times.

I’m tired of running from you so I stop to catch my breath.

It’s been a long time since I’ve felt the open air.

The sun on my skin gives a warm welcome.

Out here I can see for miles,
without your suffocation

or fear of stepping over the line.

Words, phrases, names and countries I was refused

to speak have formed at the edge of my lips,
“freedom.”

I wipe the smudges off my watch and eagerly read the time—

I still have time.
The day is young and so am I.

Determined not to take any steps backwards,

I never turn.
I rally my heart and continue forward. 

A fairytale.

Love that conquers all my doubts,

from the rooftop makes me shout,

“Thou art my love; my love is thee

and at the gate he waits for me.”

Sword in hand, battle cry,

“Dear maiden open the gate and I

shall sweep you from this village now

to my castle, to await our vow.”

At your right hand I’ll sit by you,

by your right cheek I’ll lie with you

and all the kingdom will know it’s true

love that brings life into view.