abuse, cycles, love, poem, Relationships, soulmate, twin flame, venus

Abused Heart No More

My heart filled with dismay by the tattooing of your negligence

No More.

You’re striped from your high ex cathedra privilege for taking my love for granted.

The stale linger of hope echoes in your empty chamber.

Breathless and gasping for air as I dissipate through the cracks and evaporated into the nocturnal sky.

Your subsistence subsided, pondering regret of your absence of nourishment to your once exposed heart.

My heart no longer exist

I am content.

© 2016 Karina Aragon. All Rights Reserved

Advertisements
Standard
abuse, cycles, Loss, Relationships, travel, Uncategorized

Young Thai Girl

A foreign place, A different year, a different God that I fear.

Keeping face, keeping pride, born into feelings I’m supposed to hide.  

Loving people that I hate, making money, keeping good faith. I must tolerate.

Hard-working and empty inside, selling my body to the next guy that walks by.

Killing me slowly, killing me inside, no where to run and nowhere to hide.

This is what I’m born into. This is where I will die. Unless I marry a stranger, a sailor, or a foreign guy.

(Travel blog when I was in my early 20’s in the perspective of a Thai bartender.)

Standard
abuse, cycles, love, Relationships, Uncategorized

Sick Love

The hurt of a child

The pain of a man

The sick sinks beneath

The man of hate

Inflicted

Now I pay

The thorns dig, my heart breaks

Tears of blood as my comfort dies

Alone I weep a frightened song

Haunting

Rug. Blanket. Extinguished not, still burns hot.

The pool table pockets I hide

Waiting to feel good-Granted

Keep busy, stay sane

Suffocated love I’m scolded

Surface the sick-I stay

The hurt of a child

The pain of a woman

The sick sinks beneath

The woman of hate

Inflicted; Destruction

Push-Pull-Break

Evaporated

Open-Closed, Open=Hurt, Closed=Absent

I choose absent: Blank

Fire burns beneath, the sick smoke release

Intoxicated beauty I hide

Snap-Pop-Explode: Confusion

The hurt of the past

The pain held inside

The sick now arising

The men I love

They love to HATE.

© 2016 Karina Aragon. All Rights Reserved

Standard