blood and ink/monster and poet

I remember what you did
in all those nameless bars
shakin…sweatin…
thru another blackout sunrise
remember how steady your hands were
pourin shots while she packed
while she walked out
and took the kids

but do you remember moonlight
and how it danced across broken glass
how you watched dawn paint gold
across your wreckage
felt the touch of sunlight
and how it could turn shame into resurrection?

I remember when
you’d trade one darkness for another
when you found new warm bodies
to numb the cold
new promises to break
new souls to drag down right along with you
don’t act like today makes you holy…

but if you look close
watch the way the light bends
how peace settles into jagged corners
where chaos used to live
look how gentle you are with love now
learnin to hold without crushin it
to touch without breakin
to stay without runnin…

gentle is another word for weak
its what prey does before its slaughtered
I fuckin kept you alive
while you were writin love poems
to your demons…

theres other kinds of strength
the kind that allows wildflowers
to grow thru concrete
allows rivers to shape mountains
with nothin other then persistence and time
I have seen your storms turn into shelter
I have seen what can bloom
from your darkness…

you can fuck off
with this false salvation
i remember the taste of every single fist
that taught you who you really are
I remember the way truth feels
when it breaks against teeth…

look how you’ve learned
to breathe after battles
to stand in the silence
between rage and ruin
to find steady ground
at the crumblin edge of madness
each scar a reminder
that this didn’t break you…

you think that this is peace?
it’s not
it’s surrender
it’s forgettin who you really are…

I still remember
the harsh chill of winter
this isn’t erasure
this is the cold melt into spring
this is  the night
makin way for mornin
life carries memory
of every broken thing
that you’ve ever been…

I won’t go quietly…

I don’t want you to go
stay wild
be the thunder in my storm
be the beast that calls out in my woods
be the chaos that warms my blood
that awakens my silence
but let’s create somethin
that’s worth howlin for…

I’m keepin the scars
they’re the only history
that we can trust…

let them be the canvas
that our story is painted on
our story of survival
and surrender…
of war
and wild peace…
of the past
and of becomin…

god damnit
you’re such a pussy
but maybe…
that’s enough for tonight
uneasy truce of what we survived…

and what we are survivin for…