Love Is Worth the Hurt

June 6, 2024

Love bleeds rivers of duality in the valleys of hell.

It bites viciously like holy fire when the wrong heart rips out your aching own.

She will break the glass cave surrounding the gates of salvation while fleeing from capture. 

It swells with insufferable joy at the sight of the victim’s blinding face. 

The center begins screaming to hear the abuser’s voice, coated in honey and cayenne pepper.

Sweet to the taste and sharp to your throat.

Broken rib cages beaten into submission during the fall from their once-known grace.

 

Both passages of veins hold foolishness by the stumbling hand, 

By impulsive intimacy and its icy misery with the sway of words.

The other claws chipped nails into a sunken chest, denying entry into their love’s confinement.

Each body at the table arrived for a gathering of deceitful heartache.

We remain with arms open, ready to feel the teeth masticate unprotected flesh.

 

There is no party like grave pity force-feeding illusions.

We live inside our shining delusion of deserving predator actions against us.

Finding self-sabotage in normalizing the behavior that to endure one’s wrongdoing is to accept those flaws and love without sight.

Prey starves of a belief that nothing compares to the feast that is gifted, like holiday occasions.

Break each viable bone that calls out demands in its comfort.

 

Cut from the wire and mold society shoves you in.

Souls are to stay in one locket for the end of breath.

Word of vile mouth claims that our health won’t matter as long as we remain faithful to our vessel’s abuser.

No amount of harm and unhappiness unlocks escape from purgatory.

The exit only appears when created by pure intention to protect what remains inside.

Steps on ignited coals, the walk of personal freedom is made of golden rings.

Passing the blood-soaked paths dating the past attempts to find a new doorway begs to be lessons learned.

The sun shines onto your scarred aura, and there is no doubt that a return is required.

 

Years pass, and your heart finds safety in your own hands again.

The fighting against itself and the mind cease-fire, for your world kisses peace.

Acceptance cured the sting of history that follows you on ropes of steel.

Abandonment isn’t in the cards, but there’s a reason for keeping it around.

The fight for happiness and what love our desires deserve is a constant unraveling of success in yourself.

The bruises held on canvas painted a picture so sorrowful that angels cried songs of sentiment.

Regardless, you made it to the heavens above. 

 

Landing on crystal purity of senses,

Shame for being what I knew didn’t rise from where I was supposed to fall.

Peace crawled through the land mines and whispered, 

“You are finally home. Please rest.”

With caution, I melted down and felt passion grow vines around me.

Passing through the space,

He appeared as magnificent as any being could be. 

Falling to my gashed knees, I let out. 

“All this was for you. You are my destination.”

Love empties its glorious dam once more, and I will let my body float or drown to you.

 

Elyssa Latham (she/her) is a woman of words and an avid reader. She uses her love of writing to share what she needed to hear at a young age. Latham’s works and publications include her self-published debut, My Heart & Her Pieces, alongside two works with Free Spirit and Poets Choice’s collection: “This Was A Mistake” and “Gone Out Fishing.” She is featured on “Young Voices For Change FL” with her piece titled “Cruel Blindness.” Elyssa has also won the National PTA Reflections contest with titles such as, “Hero Within” and “What Is My Story?”

 

Featured image by Filip Zrnzevic.

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