Lions Heart

You were suppose to be different, you promised to be different, you said she was safe to place her heart in your hands but when shit got real you couldn't make the stand and when she got angry and started projecting her pain you painted her a monster and shoved her back in her lane.

You refused to hear her, you refused to listen because facing your responsibility in this would mean you realizing you truly weren't the good guy that all of your followers actually believe you are. So how easy was it to put it on her and in an instance a promise that was made to never put her through something like that again was shattered into tiny slivers of glass that embedded in her skin, where she once again was left to bleed and she bled until there was nothing left but the empty shell of a human standing in another puddle of regret begging for things to be different.

A women who doesn't understand why love always has to be painful, because to her love was suppose to mean freedom. It was suppose to mean a pair of wings caressing her on her darkest days like butterflies in her stomach as her skin soaks up sunshine of 1000 I love yous in her ear. Instead its been like 1000 knives in her back while on her knees choking on her own blood that someone else served her all the while begging God for mercy for being a gentle human being, yet still believing and holding on to hope that maybe somewhere out there it truly exists amongst all the mask wearing wolves in sheep's clothing.

It was nothing more then a game to you, a short excursion to fill the needs you needed for a moment of desire to overflow your cup by draining the heart of another, I'm curious to know how does the mirror taste with that fanged tooth smile as you dress yourself in white wool. I'm curious to know how many more people are going to be left at the mercy of your meaningless words as they pour out of you like a soft melodic promise that you will never hold up to.

You call yourself a man, but yet your hands are baby soft, never truly knowing what it's like to work for anything because your whole existence is built on what you can take.

You weren't expecting the push back though were you, you came after a female whose heart is bigger then any giants without realizing she had no choice in this life but to make hell home and as all the red flags started swirling around her head, you couldn't handle how strongly her turquoise eyes saw right through you and how fast that wolf turned into a sheep and ran.

You truly thought you were coming up against a damsel in distress as you intently listened to her tales of the battles she had to fight along the dark and dreary journey that was laid out to be her Destiny. Naïve is the thoughts she saw glimmer in your eyes and the whole time you misheard the words "she fought" and twisted them into "she's weak" and will eat right out of your hands. Those soft hands that were born and bred to have all things given to, those soft hands that will never truly know what it means to stand up and fight for the things you love, because love to you is nothing more then a rotting rose on someone else's grave lacking tears because their life snuffed out of existence was meaningless.

I'm curious to know, do you still view her as needy now or have you come to realize that not all women are as dainty as a child and that they can encumber a lions roar that will protect, defend and fight for all they hold dear because that is what it means to be courageous.

So as you drown in your fake materialistic ways of being, donning your mask of the good guy, she still fights with callused blood stained hands for the things that have meaning not giving one flying fuck on how people view her, because at the end of this lonesome journey she will one day be able to turn around with her hair matted to her face, sweat dripping from her dirt streaked skin, having every scar pulsate with each heart beating breath, with her armor dented and scream a victory that nobody's ears will be able to handle, because deep down she knows with every knife's blade stabbed into her back she will rise with more heart then each step before. She is a fighter, she holds more courage then 1000 men and has faced more battles alone then that of the 300.

While you snuff and snarl, throwing shade her way she truly knows it's not her as a warrior you fear. What you fear is the soft rhythmic beating that lay deep in her chest protected by the armor because deep down you know it's you that is to weak to hold it and how fast you learned that you are not in control. So she marches on waiting for the dark knight who can match her step for step and until that day comes she will hold her head high, while continuing to lay her bricks to the foundation of her kingdom. Where she will one day sit rocking on her front porch watching her children's, children laughing, growing and playing never having to bare the same scars that adorn her for she fought the battles so they didn't have to, because that is love.

A word that will always slip from your fingers that are soaked with your own venomous saliva dripping from your white fanged lies, a word you will never know the true meaning of because your life has been spent chasing shadows of the blood you drained from those you claimed to hold dear and when you finally run out of victims to pillage because they finally see the truth, you will remember her and this time you will realize that you became nothing more to her then a whispered memory of a lesson that made her stronger.