Beauty

Living for memories lost its beauty.

Beauty, what a strange concept.

Something so object yet so takable.

Hands defile the temple.

Words defile the mind.

You on your throne of perpetuation,

I crawl on the ground of acceptance.

A slave to the accusations, the justifications.

Fear, fear that no stone will go unturned,

that no place will go unviolated.

Words morph to catalyst, burning deeper and faster.

Looks and glances cutting deeper than any blade ever could.

I fight away the images of your hands on my body, burning away the very skin you poisoned.

Scars across my body now mirror those across my mind. 

A heart so eager to love extinguished by your invasion.

A mind so lost in the past there is fear of a future.

Memories so volatile they consume any hope of new.