you wanted to be better. so you threw yourself aimlessly at anything that looked halfway like her. and honey i'm sure you felt them all tearing at the very core of whatever it is that makes you who you are. you're pulled every which way until the only direction that you know is pain. they beg, always hungry for more and eventually you become a walking apology because they make you believe you can't ever satisfy them. you wear her heart around your neck and i'm sure that heart doesn't always represent the same girl. you love endlessly and fully and in return you get pull, ripped on, until the best part of you no longer exist. but remember...
you want to be better.
so next time you'll pore yourself out more.
you'll stay up later to talk to her while she falls to pieces in front of you.
you will blame yourself for the choices that they made
and you will continue to shatter yourself in hopes that some day giving everyone else a piece of you will make you feel halfway whole.
maybe some day you'll understand that giving the best parts of you away only changes you for the worse my love. and just like everyone else begs you to give them something, i'm begging you to rid yourself of her; for she will be the one that takes that heart from your neck and turns it to hell and i'm afraid you won't ever be the same again...

"are you willing to take the risk? jump off the cliff?"

"i think i already have. twice."

"and look where it's gotten you, you've already died twice. so are you willing to risk dying a third time?"

"maybe third time is the charm."

.
Three meet upon the moor.
Clouds boil, the thunder roars.
Magick crackles about the tor,
voices raise to chant the call.

Fires at midnight burn with power.
Time stands still in the witching hour.
The moot works in the night to devour,
to catch the moon and starry showers.

Mystical nets float way up high.
Glowing globes with which to scrye.
The howling wind screams its cry,
as ancient powers steal the sky.


© Pagan Paul (2017)

.
A warm wet circle on my cheek,
all that remains of your presence.
In a cold grey room so empty,
that no longer holds your essence.
My skin and bones have turned to dust,
a heart dripping to pools so dry.
The fibres of being are unbound,
as you walk away and say goodbye.

© Pagan Paul (23/07/17)

I wanted to tell you a love story,
But I heard every great story has been lived.

I could tell you of an almost,
almost is a marvellous tragedy.
Of which i have many.

So, lets start again.
Let me tell you a tale of tragedy,

I assure you,
the greatest stories are ones that have been
lived.

My mistresses name is darkness.
she calls me,
desire prominent in her voice.

She embraces me,
her silk gown enticing.
I can't wait any longer I grasp her tightly.

As she slips the gown from her silhouette.
I have already climbed into her darkest corners.
Indulging and devouring.

The ******* goes on for hours, days or weeks?
Time is a state of mind while she's with me.

As I ****** away frustration,
kiss my way to peace.

The seduction is to powerful,
I always end up back in her sheets.