With a nervous chuckle,
He stammers frantically
about desire.

I sigh and turn away,
Giving his concubine
A little bit of privacy.

It didn't matter anyway.
I never expected
Love to exist.

My expectations were correct.
This is what I get
For caring,

Does anyone else find it ironic that Poe was a poet who wrote poetry?
Almost as if he was born to be haunted by words.

"Nevermore"

The Raven, I am
An ill omen,
Dark plumage,
Circling the sky,
Looking for flesh,
Already dead.

Listen for me in the dead of night,
I come bearing news,
The four horsemen shall come,
but only for you.
Death watches closely,
Looming in the shadows.

Call me the Raven,
For I bring only
Bad intentions
And ill will.
A demon, or a Raven?
I prophesied the end.

and it shall come.

The glass tottered on the edge of the table.
Half full, half empty?
I don't know.
But I let it fall.
However full it was,
It's in the floor now
And littered with shards of glass.

Pull the trigger for me,
                                            
                                                        
       ­                                     *I can't do it myself.

If I come off as cold and aloof,
Please don't think that I believe
that I am special,
Perhaps better than the rest.
That is far from truth.
I am only distant.
Because seeing life from a distance
Makes it hurt just a little less.

When I heard the news,
I went to the bathroom
and sobbed until I was sick.

I grabbed my coat and my car keys,
wiped away the tears
And rushed to the hospital.

He looked at me, and croaked,
hey there, lion.
He's always called me his lion.

I started to cry once again,
This is the most I've cried,
Since I stopped feeling.

you idiot, I mutter,
Taking his hand in mine, gently
examining the stark white bandages on his wrist.

I stayed with him,
They didn't make me leave,
And he understood.

I can't live without him.
I told him I needed him
I wanted him.

Every **** word
Meant all it was worth.
He could never leave.

His smile had such a gentle glow,
His eyes shined so softly when he laughed.
Gentle, his touch was a feather,
and he never touched me without asking,
Not even my shoulder or hand.
He understood me, my fears, my pain.
He was my pearl, a beauty in this gritty world.
He's gone and left me
and I don't know what to do.
My pearl has lost it's luster,
The life and the glow faded from him.
It's not too late.
He brought pulled me back from the precipice,
I will bring back his shine.

On the morning of the end, they wove the nooses of rough cord.
Daylight broke cold, the sun did not warm the Earth.

The sky was grey, the sun was dim.
The hoarse whispers of Latin drifted across the barren court yard.
Lined in stone, but for the creaking of the wooden gallows.

The sullen crowd gathers, heavy in their silence.
As they pull the bag from my head, I look blearily for you.
They shove me up the steep steps, I stumble.
The executioner tightens the noose around my neck.

My hands are bound behind me, there's no fighting death.
His grubby hand briefly grabs my face,
He whispers cruel words, intent for them to be the last I shall hear.
The lever is pulled and floor drops away, my last words I whisper,
Come to the gallows, my dear.

**Crack.

Authors do so love to romanticize cold hands.
Saying thing like:
"He used to rub my hands to keep them warm."
"He always held my hand to keep it warm."
Those are lies.
Nobody wants to share you coldness.
No one wants you to touch them,
Not with your cold hands.
And when they get painfully cold,
And your hands are stiff and red,
No one will be there to warm you back up,
I would know.

I didn't mean to break the mirror.
I thought I saw a monster.
It was my reflection.

When I asked him why he said such cruel words,
He told me he did it out of love.

When I asked him why he threw things,
He told me he did it out of love.

When I asked why he threw a bottle at me,
He told me he did it out of love.

When I asked him why he hit me,
He told me he did it for my own good.

When I asked him why he forced me,
He told me to get out of his sight.

When I asked him why he choked me,
He told me to die.

I guess the answer isn't always
*because I love you.

I stopped feeling.
It hurt too much,
So I froze my heart,
To make the pain stop.
Nowadays, the only pain i feel
Is the frostbite on my heart
And the melting of my mind.

Call me an ice queen,
Call me cold.
It can't hurt me.
Not anymore.
If you want me to feel,
You'll have to take an ice pick
To the frozen block
That I call my heart.

Distance is my best friend.

I want to live in New York City
Maybe get a tattoo,
Go skydiving,
Kiss a stranger at midnight on New Year's Eve
Get drunk in Germany
Travel the world
Speak french with a real French speaker
(And not understand a word)
I want to get lost in London
And play in famous symphony halls.

but my dreams are constantly drowned by the tidal wave of reality crashing into my mind.

**Please, let me dream, It's all the hope I have left.

Stab me with a thousand needles,
Get your revenge and use me.
God knows that's all I'm good for.
I was worthless before,
I'll be worthless in the end.
To you I am a poppet.
As your rough voices chants,
Come here, poppet,
I know I'll only be worth a moment.
A moment of pleasure,
Before being tossed away,
Like the rag I am.

I take hot showers.
It's nice at first,
The steam flowing around you.
Gloriously warm, like an embrace.
But it starts to burn,
The water pelts against your skin,
Stinging and turning it red.
Revel in the pain,
For when you get out,
The numbness will return.

My eyes are melting.
I've forgotten how to see,
and it burns,
this searing pain.
It's because I cannot see.
For we see,
But we do not truly see.
No one truly sees anymore

It drips down my face,
Warm and wet.
Red pours from my wounds,
Salty, it slides past my lips
and drips onto the floor.

I would apologize for bleeding on your floor,
**but it is your fault.

They've found me guilty.
Today I will die.
Are you coming?

I know you do so love to watch death.

The beat of the military drums
And the bitter stench of fear,
It all falls quiet as I am led to the end.
The grim silence of death is looming.
As the glinting steel of the axe falls,
My cold laugh echoes in the heavy silence.
I'll be seeing you again, soon.

Everything freezes as the axe hits it's mark.
Goodbye, for now.

The nicest thing he ever did
was clean me up.
He wiped off the filth
that came from him,
And cleaned the blood
From my split lip.
I know he was careful
Not to hurt me too much.
Because he took me home
after he dressed me
And threatened that
Things would be worse
If I told anyone
What he had done.

Does it make you happy?
Do you enjoy my pain?
I'd call you a sadist
but that isn't a strong enough word.
I want to disgrace you,
The way you disgraced me.

Coward.

I want you to hurt.
I want you to feel humiliated,
Violated.
I will leave you feeling
as ***** as you left me.
Think of it as payback.

As you once said to me,
*Just shut up, you like it.

Of all things I've seen,
It's you that I want to forget.
Gone from my mind,
The pain would disappear.
The nightmares and fear,
The jumping when I'm touched.
I could forget it all,
Simply by forgetting you.

Hope is a funny thing, you know. People have the power give it and to take it away. It's so easily crushed and easily stolen. Since I came to this site, I have loved your poems. Today, you made me feel wanted, special. Like somebody could care. And I want you to feel the same. I want to find you.
Love,
Liz and Lilacs

The sheets can't seem to stay on the bed
and the blankets flee from warmth.
The pillows end up across the room.
Every night, I fall asleep at three am
Sometimes it's four or never at all.
My bed is a war zone.

I dreamt of death.
I knew people were going to die.
Each circumstance and cause of death.
I tried to save them.
Every effort failed,
I desperately warned them of their fates.
The demon of death
Came to me,
Angry that I had stolen her prey
And she said to me:
Visionary, it matters not whom I take
you can't save them all
so forget the knowledge gifted unto you.
To me she looked normal, like any other person,
But she began to melt, a look of pain seared on her face.
*Visionary, forget what you saw.

You know those thoughts.
The thoughts that creep in
when you let your guard down.

"They don't like me."
"I'm so fat."
"I can't do this."

These little thoughts I try to forget
But it's two am and they're back
Because they won't stay away forever.

"They weren't really my friends"
"I wish they would talk to me."
"I hate this. I hate myself."

I hope you smile with all the light of the sun.
I hope you want to be all the wildest things when you grow up.
I hope your eyes reflect the night sky.
I hope you never find yourself broken.
I hope when some one asks you what you love,
The first thing you will say is yourself.
That is important. I want you to love yourself.
I hope you're happy with who you are.
I hope you dream big and achieve what others thought was impossible.
Most of all, I hope you are happy, whoever you turn out to be.
My dear future child, always know, that I will love you, no matter what.

My
        lips

             are
                

         chapped

   from
your

      **absence

Let me clear the air.
I am no poet.
I am not beautiful or tragic.
I'm just a girl.
A sad, angry person
Who has been at war with the world.
But all the same,
I'll get into mischief with you.

A ****** girls stands on the corner.
She's to young to be this aged.
Flirty winks and forced smiles
draw the suited men in.
Heavy makeup, short skirt
Drugs to forget her misdeeds
Reminds herself not to flinch,
their ***** hands ghost across her skin.
She throws away her morals
to please a corrupt man.
For the price of disobedience
Is her fleeting life.

I run my finger across my lips.
They used to be soft and delicate
but this cold has frozen them.
My heart and my lips
seem to be chapped.

You asked me why I let myself hurt.
Because I don't know how to fix it.
and maybe, maybe, I like it
Just a little, in some little way,
I like the pain.

To love oneself is the ultimate goal.
To smile at the reflection in the mirror;
I know that you hate what you see
with every shard of your  beautiful soul.

When I say shard, I do mean shard,
For your soul was shattered by the world,
And you broke it into tiny pieces
When you cut your fingers trying to fix it.

You loved yourself once,
Before you grew up in this cruel age.
Your smile was filled with sunshine,
And mirrors were things to marvel at.

You can love yourself again, if you try.
It won't be easy, it will take time.
But love can grow from the cracks in your soul
Like wildflowers in the pavement.

When you find how it feels to be happy,
Will you teach your children?
In the future, tell them your secret,
Share the secret of happiness with them.

I tried to write poems
About sunshine and butterflies.
The kinds that smell like meadows
And feel like summer.

But the only ones that mattered
Were my poems about sadness
And anger and death.
The trainwreck poems are oh so interesting

We like to see others' sadness
This misery that might be greater than our own.
Maybe we aren't alone,
If we see that others suffer too.

His scaly skin slides across my tender flesh.
I never wanted this, but I asked for it.
His boney hands pull my hair
as his skeleton fingers slide across my delicate lips
and force their way inside my mouth.
"Hold your tongue, girl. Protestation will do you no good."

I close my eyes in desperation, waiting for the end.
Above me, below me, in me, I feel him.
Bruises blossom, dark beneath my ivory skin,
He feels no need to be gentle with a girl like me,
A girl who would sell her soul and body to survive.
The demon takes his pleasure and leaves his mark, ensuring his swift return, for his prey can no longer hide.

I tried to write a horror story
But the paper bled crimson with each stroke of my pen.
I swear I could hear it scream as I marred it's snowy white skin.
It crumbled in my hands and blew away in the wind,
Its blood curdling howl echoed in my mind,
I never wrote again.

Someday, you'll give everything you have
and more to something or someone.
You'll care so much, and nothing seems
to come from your hard work and effort.

It's draining and you'll be exhausted.
One day you'll say to yourself,
I care too much. I'm done caring.
You'll shut away your hope and give up faith.

In the end, you'll be nothing but cold.

I always end up watching
As my friends lose themselves in liquor.
I don't drink because I see the way they change.
I don't want to get lost.
It makes me scared to see them change.

I think of myself,
My existence,
I pick apart every little piece of me.
This hate, this self loathing,
Stems from my selfish desire,
To think of myself.

What is the price for my soul?
For I would sell it,
In exchange for all the time I lost,
Every last minute spent afraid.
My soul is of no value to me,
If I spend my life as a shell,
A shell of what I could be.

Will you take it?
Do you realize what you're doing?
I understand, it doesn't matter, I want to be happy.
All souls are miserable in the end.
Well then, give me the chance,
And I will give you my soul.
A drop of your blood will seal the contract.
I hope you realize what you've done to yourself.
I don't want your warnings, it is too late to go back.
It is done. I will see you in the end, my delicate soul.
*There will be no rest, for your eternal life.