Love is a map. Hands above her head, her body pressed hard against our bedroom wall. I trace her peaks and valleys with my tongue. I know her roads by heart. They all lead home. Susan M. Conway #100DayPrompt #TGP100DayChallenge #TheGingerPost
Another lifetime perhaps, my God, I can be found at the holy pulpit of your feet, my heart, a choir of FUCK YES.
When will I stop hemorrhaging? A whisper woke me. This happens frequently. My heart weeps as I sleep, sobs and whisper prays to my brain about such travesties as this. Her life, my deaths, and the crushing need for redemption and one hell of a come back song.
Everytime I am forgiven Connections form, every time I am forgiven. Moreover, every time I forgive myself, the fissures in my heart suckle themselves back together; closed wounds, and an open, open heart, instead of the other way around now. Moreover, every time I forgive myself, the fissures in my heart suckle themselves back together;… Continue reading Susan M. Conway: Everytime I am Forgiven
Perhaps, I will never fully be returned all my limbs; but I am still fighting. And, I know that's worth something.
You still walk this earth, and I still bleed for you, mourn and wail for you, seeking you in every lover I have taken since.
The truth is, I crave the silence your violence brings.