Whiskey Words & a Shovel I

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Whiskey Words & a Shovel I Page 1

by r. h. Sin




  other books by r.h. Sin

  Whiskey Words & a Shovel II

  Whiskey Words & a Shovel III

  Rest in the Mourning

  thank you Samantha, my baby.

  and so it happens, nothing is the same. everything altered by overtrusting and believing in someone who fed you beautiful lies, when all you ever wanted was the truth. this had been my biggest problem, a major issue in my life. investing all of my hopes and dreams into someone who never actually meant the things they said, someone incapable of keeping their word, and I’d only come to find out when everything had already begun falling apart. there’s this slow collapse happening around you, but you’re blind to it because you hold on to what little hope you have left. looking back now, I should’ve known better. the red flags were all around me, but I was blinded by a love that was tainted and promises that later revealed themselves as empty.

  I was searching for peace in the middle of chaos. I was searching for a love in the midst of hate. I was promised a lifetime of understanding yet I stood face-to-face, constantly in battle with the person who should have helped me fight off sadness. I let this go on for years, I stayed when I should’ve left, and I’d continue to fight and not be fought for. there I was, thinking it could never happen to me but it did. the slow burning of everything I built upon a foundation that was sand, washed away by the floods of deceit. damaged at the point of betrayal but after I healed myself. after months of ignoring phone calls, refusing to respond to "I miss you" text messages, I found my truth and discovered a greater love for myself.

  it all begins with you, everything and anything. it all starts with you. I realized this to be true as I continued to self-care, more aware of what I wanted, needed, and deserved. on December 3rd, in the middle of the night, I received a message from a young woman named Samantha King. I fell in love with her laugh over the phone on a Saturday evening; I fell in love with her eyes and her smile over a video chat. I fell so deeply in love with a stranger who lived in New York, thousands of miles away from me. on the 19th of that month, we’d go on to become a couple and with my second visit to New York months later to meet her, I’d end up staying.

  originally, this book was released on the 25th of December 2015, and it fills me with great pleasure to share this updated version with you. this list of events, summed up in the form of poetry and prose. my past is yours, the present is ours, and the future awaits us all.

  thank you Samantha King for being brave enough to let me in. I write to you in thanks, not only as your partner but now your fiancé, someone who is in desperate need of your existence and presence for the rest of my life. in these pages, I tell a story of pain, but in my life, next to you, I am overwhelmed with joy. you are proof that there is good waiting for anyone who has lived a life of pain. you are proof that soul mates exist and that they can be found even in situations where one has given up hope. I’m so happy that I found you, or maybe you found me. regardless of it all, you helped turn my grief into happiness. you helped turn my nights into morning once more.

  notes to the neglected ones I.

  young girls neglected by their fathers

  forced to grow up

  like plants without sunlight

  without care, without that love

  and so they search for that love

  in the arms of boys who are incapable

  of loving them in ways

  which they desire

  this urge to be loved romantically

  created by books, movies, and music

  filled with fairy tales

  far from their own reality

  boys pretending to be men

  promising love to young girls

  who are not yet women

  young girls broken down

  first by their fathers

  then by boys who will one day

  be completely irrelevant

  but the pain that they cause

  will somehow manifest itself

  as something greater than

  they’ll ever imagine

  young girls weighed down

  by the weight of things

  they should have never had to experience

  life events that should have never occurred

  but they did and they will

  young girls neglected by their fathers

  forced to grow up in the coldest conditions

  this is a note to the neglected souls

  notes to the neglected ones II.

  no one taught you

  to love you

  and that’s your biggest problem

  searching for validation

  in people who will never

  accept you for you

  being made to feel

  like you’re not good enough

  trying to prove yourself

  to those who will never

  be good enough for you

  taken away.

  who robbed you of innocence

  who told you things

  you’ve never heard

  who made empty promises

  swearing to God

  that they’d do something

  they never actually intended to

  who was your first

  who took your virginity

  with meaningless compliments

  and a love that wasn’t genuine

  who made you feel things

  your heart wasn’t prepared for

  who fooled your heart into falling

  I’ll tell you who

  the same person

  who later abandoned you

  after getting what they wanted

  the same person who pulled

  at your heartstrings

  with the intent of playing you

  like some horrible symphony

  and the saddest part of it all

  you’ll cling to the good memories

  as if there were any

  you’ll take these dirty walls

  and paint over them

  with the brightest colors

  known to man

  but the pain will always be there

  can’t be life.

  sadly, so many people

  are setting the bar really low

  in terms of their personal lives

  working a job they hate

  content with struggling

  settling for relationships

  that aren’t actual relationships

  life for so many is not living at all

  and that’s the problem

  you get what you allow

  watching others live life

  instead of living your best life

  and they wonder why everyone

  is self-medicating

  suppressing their pain

  pretending to be happy

  instead of trying to cultivate

  a lifestyle that brings them peace

  with lightning.

  she is a storm

  a magnificent force

  writing her life’s story

  in lightning

  14kt.

  woman

  you are a poem

  written in ink

  derived from gold

  painful roots.

  you planted seeds

  bearing dishonesty

  and pain grew in my heart

  start to finish.

  this is the part of the book

  where shit gets a bi
t weird

  you’re reading this to yourself

  without the realization

  that I am now talking to you

  directly, until now

  repeat after me and this more

  than once if you need to

  I am grand

  I am powerful

  I am electric

  I am incredible

  I will survive this

  I will be fine

  understand yourself.

  you are the light

  that most men

  will never deserve

  silence tales.

  she could tell stories of hurt

  with silence

  her smile was broken

  so was her heart

  and yet I still knew

  she was perfect for me

  truth of self.

  to be honest with myself

  I was never what you wanted

  I was just the one you settled for

  2417.

  try, fail

  try again

  fail more

  I just wish you could

  have fell more or feel more

  death knocks on our door

  eviction notice and I’m hurting

  which is why I wrote this

  our story, our book

  I’m done reading, time to close it

  if love trumps all, then why the hell

  is he our potus

  and if I’m overrated

  then why am I the most quoted

  been valuable all my life

  but none of my lovers seem to notice

  and so it’s fuck love, claiming I’m done

  but I don’t mean it

  true love exists

  it’s just that we don’t ever see it

  self-sabotage

  it’s like we do it to ourselves

  but I’m through like needle and thread

  when I was just trying to help

  no words.

  silence says the things

  we struggle to say

  the experience.

  you’re an experience

  more than a woman

  you are lightning striking earth

  your presence is electrifying

  under stars.

  meet me here

  beneath the stars

  near the moon

  in the dark

  I’ve been waiting

  for someone like you

  you are.

  I know you

  you’re the girl with the broken smile

  you’re the woman who searches the night

  for peace

  you’re the woman

  most men don’t deserve

  you’re the woman

  someone needs

  infinite us.

  I assure you

  that when this life ends

  I will find you in the next

  no matter what the circumstances are

  our love is forever

  everlasting, never-ending

  out of hurt.

  your words

  sound like hate

  when the heart

  is hurt or angry

  split.

  you were never the one

  this was never love

  and we were never meant

  to live happily together

  you were simply necessary

  I had to be hurt by you

  in order to find my strength

  my hope for you.

  and I hope you find

  what you’re looking for

  more love of self

  and someone brave enough

  to lose sleep with you

  holding you in the thickness

  of the night

  when you’re restless

  I hope you find the love

  that you deserve

  and spoken words

  that’ll make you swoon

  a hand to hold

  and lips to touch

  first thing in the morning

  when you wake up

  I hope you find the truth

  and nothing less

  something that’ll bring you peace

  something that’ll make

  your heart smile

  first day of February.

  your child is not a weapon

  your child is not some tool

  that you should use

  to hurt others

  it hurts my heart

  it tears me apart

  to witness your inability

  to appreciate the efforts

  of those who only wish

  to love your child

  as if that child was theirs

  your child is not some weapon

  and yet you use this child

  in that way

  not realizing that you’re only

  hurting yourself

  by destroying the bond

  shared by others

  just to protect your own

  the control.

  and that’s how they control you

  they make everything appear impossible

  they force you to believe

  that you’re almost average at best

  they force you to forget about your magic

  and with this, you forget about your worth

  we are more prone to accept a little

  or nothing as opposed to having it all

  we’re content with small sums

  of what will add up to being without value

  in our last days of life

  our desire to achieve more

  has been buried beneath

  the ideals set by those

  threatened by an above-average ambition

  don’t let them control you

  don’t let them define

  and or set your limitations

  just be.

  woman

  be strong

  be educated

  be opinionated

  be independent

  you will only offend

  the weak

  you will only frighten

  the closed-minded

  and you will never

  be appreciated

  by those who don’t

  deserve your presence

  and that’s completely fine

  similar foes.

  no matter the gender

  no matter the sexual orientation

  no matter the color of skin

  we are all haunted

  by the same emotional devils

  we are all running from similar demons

  but you’re used to it.

  you’re so used to being mistreated

  that you allow your heart

  to remain in dirty hands

  you’ve gotten so used to being hurt

  that happiness scares you

  into staying in a relationship

  that will further break your spirit

  put your phone down.

  social media

  has made us less social

  we observe the lives of others

  instead of living out our own

  dreaming instead of doing

  liking what we see

  while hating what we do

  all nothingness.

  limitations self-imposed

  choosing to conform

  to the idea

  of not having your own ideas

  we work to further the agenda

 
of others

  neglecting our own dreams

  to labor behind the efforts

  of helping people

  bring their dreams

  to a reality

  content with being the worker

  sitting below the boss

  content with being a spectator

  with minimum participation

  our version of living

  feels more like death

  as we pretend to be satisfied

  with nothingness

  fifteen.

  I sit here in a dark room

  on the 15th floor

  the rain beating at my window

  the city skyline

  becomes my nightlight

  as I type these words at 11:13 p.m.

  on a cold Wednesday night

  my heart breaks at the thought

  of you reading these words

  with a heavy heart

  my heart breaks because

  you most likely picked up

  this book because your heart

  is hurting

  I understand you

  I see you without seeing you

  I feel the scars on your heart

  like braille

  somehow reading the stories

  that often go unread

  within the pages of your soul

  mother of pain I.

  insecure mothers

  jealous of their own daughters

  chipping at their self-esteem

  attempting to kill their dreams

  young girls forced to survive

  into womanhood

  18 years old

  the age at which

  they can finally escape

  the death grip of an insecure mother

  mother of pain II.

 

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