Salvation

She's cradled and beautifully dipped in her carcass ,
Where love has a price and tears waist her time.
Bountiful checks are deposited in that spot where her soul once sat.
My blood is created from her blood.
And her heart has since split from each cursed spewing ventricle.
My midnight cries were drowned in her silent wantings.
For I was never heard.
She longs for an endless childhood, looks for it in her own,
And the vast emptiness reaches with it's clawed angry hand through her belly,
Clutching the throat of her ever flinching smile.
The scars on my body are not of the knife or the razor.
These scars are from the burning, slicing embers that fly from the devilish fire behind her eyes.
I watch them boil in letters of suicide notes and afterthoughts.
As her blood seeps through my pores, as it oozes from hell, evaporating into heaven once again,
I know that I can not rid myself of her.
She has the noose and tightens it when I try.
Still searching for her, I cannot trace back to the beginning.
Her entrapment of my being is like a maze of thorned roses.
I stay hypnotized and confused by her beautiful movements,
Dancing in the sands of Egypt, waving her deception in violet ribbons of self-hatred.

I believed in you once.
In times when the sunsets reflection would ripple when the waves reached your waist,
And the splash to my face on a hot day made me smile.
When you held me to love me, and couldn't buy me the world.
When she was you.

Her silence echo's in my mind, slithering past what once was, just in case I forgot.
To remind me that I had a mother, a loving fake.
And now that the harbored beauty has wasted away from her face,
Now that her eyes have leveled to mine, and I see the inferno,
Now that I know who I am,
I'm leaving before the scars can re-open,
Before the embers torch my insides and slice my voice,
Before she can turn me into you.

And so these thorns are still burning from her dancing sands,
The maze is still turning, and the confetti of her torn violet ribbons weigh on my eyelashes,
And I know that these tears are forever embedded on my cheeks.
I'm running by sunsets and rippled waters, but it won't cool the wounds in my belly, nor the ripped stitches on my lips.
I'm tripping and sobbing and skinning my palms,
For a secondhand glimpse of salvation.