I saw her shadow in eyes of golden flame;
Nothing to lose, something to gain.

She exhaled whispered promises, tendrils of sin.
Her cold lips smiled; insidious is her grin

She spun and spun with airy grace
But nothing fled the ivory mask, her face.

The snow fell softly under the pale moon;
I saw her within my mind far too soon.

Lucifer, the one that shines,
the morning star,
God's favorite,
cast from heaven for his sins.
And by that sin fell the angels.

but do you really believe that the devil is a monster?
That he, who was an angel, is grotesque?
No, he is beautiful and tempting,
an angel dwelling on earth,
and, god, he knows how to play a person.

Lucifer just wanted to be more like God,
is that so wrong for him to desire?
Thrown from paradise for
wanting to be like his father.
How sickening.

I am a figment of your imagination.
A product of your creation,
a mere fabrication,
your own fantastic notion.

I'm not real,
I'm not real,
I'm not real.

I felt so real, so live.
I just wanted to survive.
Let me come alive,
something for which to strive.

I'm not real.
I'm not real.
I am real.

They say that writing is like weaving an intricate lie.
That writers are just excellent liars
Lie to me, story teller, for you make lies sound beautiful.
        
         *I was never a good liar.

He called me beautiful.
"You're so beautiful", said he.
It should have been sweet,
a compliment to flow off one's tongue,
but I knew what he wanted.

His lustful lies are empty
to my delicate heart.
I know better than to fall
for the charming prince
with the beautiful words.

Oh god
Keep it together.
Can't breathe. Need to sit down.
Your friend is dead.
Can't breathe need to sit down can't breathe
Keep it together
He was hit by a train
Can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe can't breathe
Keep it together
need to sit down can'tbreathecan'tbreathecan'tbreathe
*Keep it together

The man with ember eyes
sets my mind alight
with his touches,
skin tingling with the memory
of his soft hands, touching each pore.
He stepped inside my walls
and melted the ice of my heart
with the burning ember of his eyes.
And as I lay on the soft blue sheets,
he walked out the door
and never came back.
My friends agony and shame
once again wrapped their hands in mine.

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.

If you could see how many untitled drafts I have,
What would you think?
Shall I count them for you?
Upwards of twenty,
unfinished thoughts
and half formed metaphors,
poems where I just couldn't
find the words at the moment.

I love to watch my skin part.
The way it gives,
Like paper.
The ink oozes out,
This deep red color,
Like the mistakes I've made.
Write a novel in my skin,
For we are walking stories
And it only makes sense
To write it down.

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.

I know you,
You claim you want happiness,
You want romance and joy,
Not the broken people.
Then tell me why,
Tell me why all my
most popular writing
Is about pain and suffering?

I'd like to think
that tortured souls
find happiness in the end.
That maybe who ever is watching
Will understand that it's hard.

It's hard to be a good person
When the world treats you like ****.

But I've long since stopped
believing in miracles
When the world showed me
It's true colors.

But how do I explain to my family,
Why I don't have Christmas spirit
Or why my eye is swollen.
I don't want to ruin their Christmas.
Just keep quiet, like always.

Like Icarus, we fly
too close to the sun
or too close to the sea.

The highs and the lows
The good and the bad
There is no in between.

Life is a game,
A game of extremes.
And we don't know how to win.

But you know what they say:
What goes up,
*must come down.

Be brave, my dear.
When the world comes
crashing down,
I'll hold your hand.
You can cry on my shoulder,
I've seen far worse in this life.
I will stay strong for you,
For I would never allow
you to see the lion fear.
Life may be stained with my blood,
but not a soul will see my tears,
Nor taste the salt of my pain.

Somewhere along the way,
I decided it was better to feel nothing at all.
Better not to hurt, not feel, not to suffer.
The canary in my birdcage heart has stopped singing
and we all know it's dead,
It's time to leave before we all perish
in the wasteland of myself.

I'm not saying that I want to die.
Not right now, anyway.
But lately, I just want to sleep.
To sleep and never wake.
I'm so tired.
Tired of everything.

They had the gall to throw me from the top.
Sending me crashing to the bottom of the heap.
An untouchable, they say.
How dare they call me such,
after all I have done for them?

The weight of the society,
left to the untouchables
to bear upon their shoulders.
They refuse to even help me from the ground.
The call me *****, worthless.

I am certain my hands are cleaner than theirs,
for the blood of the innocent does not ***** my hands.
I am certain that I am not worthless,
for I do the jobs that no one else will.
Yet they call me untouchable.

I listen to the silence of the night that isn't truly quiet.
I listen to sobs of the lost children.
I listen to the prayers of the disgraced.
I listen to the whispered gossip of the upperclass.
I listen to the gasps of pain from the damaged.
I listen to the rejoiced cries of the fortunate.
I listen to the cracks of souls shattering.
I listen to the lewd moans of lovers embracing.
I listen to the forsaken sighs of the companionless.
I listen for you, but cannot seem to hear.

Were I not a woman?
If I fit your beliefs?
If I bent to your will?
If I abandoned my ambitions?
I will never sway in your
hot air breeze
that you create with your
crumbling lungs of dust and age.

Would it change anything if I did?

Close your eyes
And it'll be over soon.
You won't feel the blows
Or his unwholesome touch.
I miss the one who cared for me,
If I close my eyes,
Maybe I can pretend he's here
And not the one who hurts me.
If I close my eyes,
Maybe endings will be easier.
If I close my eyes,
It will all be over soon.

They say that we're lucky,
and we are,
To live in a safe town,
Where nobody dies
and there's little crime.

But it's a lie,
They say it's safe here,
It's better here,
But nowhere is safe.

Because down by the train tracks,
The bartender of a little bar
was ***** and murdered
in the parking lot.
They left her naked,
No dignity, not even in death.

I know that I'm far safer
than a lot of others,
But the truth is,
Nowhere is safe,
Not here, not in the country,
Not in the city,
Nowhere is safe.

Jealousy, what a nasty thing. I was asked to describe it.
Jealousy is when another little girl takes your doll. It's the first time you have a crush, and you see another kiss him on the playground. It's when you look at the other girls and compare yourself. You simply cannot stand to be in your own skin. You want, no, need to be them, to be like them, to be with them.
Jealousy is when you're never quite good enough. There's always that smart kid that shows you up in class, always someone with better grades. When you were almost valedictorian, but someone else got it by one fourth of grade point.
It's when you fall in love and you watch them walk away. It's never enough. The summer before college and your high school sweet heart is going out of state for college, and so are you, but somewhere else. You never thought you could be jealous of place.
It's when you're with your friends and they don't listen to you talk, and they don't notice when you no longer talk. When you're the one alone on the side walk.
Jealousy is your heart, slowly turning dark as the happiness of other peoples' lives dance by, because for you, nothing was ever good enough. Not even yourself.

Have you ever felt helpless?
Well and truly powerless?
Do you know how it feels?
A hand wrapped around your throat,
Someone else is in control.
You cannot breathe
Unless they want you to.
Your life in someone else's hands.
It's terrifying.

So we beat on, boats against the current,
     borne back ceaselessly into the past.
I hope she is a fool, a beautiful little fool.
Absolutely real, pages and everything.
The loneliest moment in someone's life is when
       they are watching their world fall apart
       and all they can do it stare blankly.
And I sat there brooding in the old and unknown world.
You can't repeat the past.
You can't repeat the past? Of course you can.
They're a rotten crowd, I stated,
         You're worth more than the whole **** lot of them.
When you feel like criticizing, remember not everyone
          has had the advantages you've had.
I thought of Gatsby's wonder.
So we beat on, boats against the current,
          borne back ceaselessly into the past.

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.

I try so hard
to write beautiful poems,
to write happy poems.

I want so much
to seem happy,
to be okay.

I try so hard
to write happy poems
and yet, they're always fake.

Nothing pleasant happens here.
I'm asking you to stay
but telling you to leave.
I don't want to be alone,
but I want you to be happy.
and if you stay,
you should know
nothing pleasant ever happens here.

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 cannot distinguish
between love and hate.

For after you kiss me,
you say that you hate me.

And after you hit me,
you say that you love me.

Something just doesn't seem quite right.

Will you count the stars with me
until I fall asleep?
I cannot hold them in my hand.
Forever, I will reach out to catch one as it falls.
Maybe their light could provide some warmth.
It's so cold here.

That's how long it's been since you died.
I know everyone else stopped counting
long ago because it hurt too much.
But it's still hard to breathe without you.
I don't know how to be without you.
That day, I stopped existing when I found out.
Why did you leave me all alone?
Why didn't you take me with you?
Or stay with me?

I used to write.
Now, I stare.
I stare at the paper
and the blank white screen.
Red ink unused in my pen,
no longer blue ink stains on my hands.
Ever since we met,
I can no longer feel enough to write.
I used to write.

When a boy tells you
he loves you,
Nothing tells you it's a lie.
No alarms go off,
No one warns you.
No one tells you
that all he will do
is hurt you and demand
you say
you love him too.
And it's too late to go back.

Dry skin,
****** nose,
cracked lip,
bruised knuckles.

Shattered vase,
empty bottle,
hair ties,
leather belt.

Closed eyes,
stinging palm,
sore cheek,
***** breath.

One word,
one thought,
one plea:
*Stop.

We need some light.
The morning sun,
the breaking dawn.
Midday warmth
and basking in the sun.
The setting sun,
the dying light.
We need some light
to see the truth.

Your tears taste like vinegar;
bitter, angry, unforgiving.
Stare into the fire,
the dancing flame,
the warmth on chilled skin.
Reach out for it,
but never touch.
How did I become such a monster?
I didn't meet her until
the day she died.
I never understood:
This was living;
damaged, empty, alone,
but this was living.