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
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
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.