Oh, Captain

I knew that to love her was suicide, but my god her brokenness was beautiful,

 

A tragic mess who had learned to dance with her skeletons

 

She rocked to sleep those restless memories, held pain so close to her chest

 

Insomnia was her most reliable friend,

The emblem of their nightly charades displayed as mottled darkness beneath her eyes

 

She was a survivor when all others stayed victims

Her body a battlefield, littered with fading scars and the faint aroma of suffering

Both mingling with olive skin and sweet perfume

 

But survival is gorgeous

 

She didn't want love, didn't need a companion

Only a loyal captain to stand silent at the helm of her sinking ship

 

Never before did a gun placed to my temple feel so full of life

allets's picture

A Life Profiled

Portraits. Prosaic and poignant. Depressing as the culture from which they were grown. 


...a

 

HCE's picture

Powerful

An incredibly powerful piece. You've got a novel in you, I can tell!

Carcass's picture

Beautiful piece

Very well written! "Insomnia was her most reliable friend."  That really got to me because I suffered from Insomnia for several years and it is a really hard cycle to break. And with Insomnia, when you do sleep you suffer from imaginations of the mind.  Just a wonderful sentence.