Fallen

Women carry bodies of poetry within

A cruel wrench in the belly, of unspoken words, words like paper cuts, at the edge of their full tongues  

Women know that poetry is like surviving a war, of this fault of society that was built to break them, into always forgetting that the most beautiful of stars are the fallen ones

Forgetting that the sky whispers in the dead of night, and sends the moon down, to pray for every heart heavy with apologies; apologies of being good in a world so hideous

Forgetting that the devil is made of flesh, and lives in the crowd of other men

Forgetting that the wild air and sunshine will always breathe for them, in days where it takes more than a few muscles to survive

Little girl,

Your memory betrays me, and I'm too weak; I'm too weak, each and every time I remember you, the present holds the weight of the past, and the blame is never too far off my fingertips, to move on

The night I held your lifeless body, I couldn't even quite recognize it, with the scary haunt of darkness, that crushed the sun in you, turning my entire world pitch black

your body that clung to my arms like a last cry, thrown in the dirt, turned inside out, I crouched down on the cold floor, to scrub every bleeding scar underneath your skin

I thought if I scrubbed enough, id make the haunt go away, that my embrace is enough to warm you, into bringing you back to me, into believing that everything will be okay  again

... Till this day I don't think I've scrubbed enough

No, no, this is not the you I know, not the one who dimmed the light of my existence, one winter-night, brought home to me, forgotten; a poor victim of hate

How could hell consume a soul so young?

Stranger's hands claimed your honey his, as he stripped you off all the colors that God had painted your pure beauty with

He sucked the violet from the lightness of your skin, with eyes of piercing blood, that starved the innocence from your roots

He thrusts himself into your boundaries, pushed himself into the depth of your shivers, irrupting the flow of your waters, with one stolen touch

Then puffed you into nothingness

Little girl,

Rage is that fire burning within, always there, always there to remind me, of all that could have been of you, you: are the longest sigh deep in the ruins of my being

I fell under the blur of life, the night they covered your broken parts, to take you back to earth, that night;  shadows became my only weather

I know, the angels must've cried for you, as they pulled you on their wings, like a ghost memory, soon to be washed with the wind, that carried the evil sins of other men

Nobody knows the drops of pain poured, late in the silence of nights, of a mother who failed to protect her only child

Nobody knows the sorrows, she seeks refuge in, to torture herself with, shrinking slowly along the guilt that kills

Nobody crumbles into dust faster than a woman, carrying a stone-burdened heart, within

Little girl,

I write to extend my hand for you, and I know under the care of earth, you are protected, and loved better than anyone could ever be

Sometimes I wait in my sleep for you, and I dream of you, dancing far, far away, in a galaxy, lost in an eternity of salvation, no longer longing for yourself  

There I find you; alive, forever in peace