Exhumed

Why do insecurities obstruct my fragile mind?

Allowing doubt to dominate the structure of my spine.

I've become weak and flaccid, an invertabrate of sorts;

A brittle ego shattered as my bones start to contort.

So haunted by the vivid thoughts, my encounters in the past;

Ghosts that tiptoe on the edge, where I'm rendered aghast.

History lures images in morbid retrospect;

I struggle with reality, the truth of Life and Death.

Never once was I a choice, just his comforting escape;

A place to hide his Inner Beast, a Home where he felt safe.

Dragging in cadavers, bodies drenched in filth;

A narcissistic masochist, completely void of guilt.

Doused in scents of sick affairs, the deadly stench of lust;

The cancerous infection that devoured all my trust.

A corpse of every color, no description did he crave;

Each participating in the death that laid my ego in her grave.

Many years have passed since then, yet the memories won't rest;

Forcing me to question love at every new request.

I have no intentions to compare the next, nor to blame him for the past;

Yet I'm cursed by resurrected scenes that scream behind a mask.

A morbid mask to fit my face, worn to shelter scars and flaws;

Formed to hide the blood of war that's splattered on the walls.

I have slowly opened up to him, reluctant as I do;

So hesitant, yet eager, to unveil my truths.

Would he engage in mockery if I began to lift my mask?

Would he criticize my heinous scars if I revealed each one at last?

Would he turn away in sheer disgust or sneak away in shame?

If I exhumed every skeleton would he, then, slander my name?

Or would he chose to empathize, to share in every wound?

Would he kiss the Braille etched on my flesh, these malevolent tattoos?

Is he infused with loyalty? His eyes reflect no lust;

I sense no ill intentions, no reasons to mistrust.

His hands are soft and gentle, his touch displays his soul;

His heart beat deeply resonates a beauty pure and bold.

Vibrant and astonishing, such intricate detail;

A breath of reassurance, a love that never fails.

No, I can not compare him, for he is nothing like the rest!

A man of strong integrity branded on his chest.

A blessing sent to slay my doubts, to conquer every fear;

To put to rest the poignant pain that I endured for years.

My past, now, is a bleak mirage, a phantom in a tomb;

A temporary massacre that will never be exhumed...

--Kelly M. Gregory--❤❤❤