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I was born a mermaid.
Half divine fish,
Half human female.
My thoughts swam far and wide
taking no prisoners.

I did not know I was myself
until the age of six.
My life had seemed like
an extraordinary dream
up to that point.
I wasn't a girl bound by a name.
I was the queen of a world
of sea-kings and sea-nymphs.
The day I glimpsed myself in the mirror,
I rose from the waves,
and caught a whiff of reality.
It hit me so hard
I couldn't breathe anymore
amongst the fish I called friends.

I had to surface
but I couldn't leave the sea.
Land is too harsh
for a mermaid's glistening scales.
It roughs them up,
takes away their shine.
But the sea was also
inhospitable to those
who only halfway belonged.

I drifted between
the two worlds
always keeping my head upright
above the waves.
My skin grew sunburnt,
My wrists grew thinner,
My eyes grew dimmer,
with every appearance
of the moon's wistful face.

The two sides of me
were at war
and I was slated to be
the sole casualty.

I did the only thing I could
held my breath
sank under the waves.

I made a deal with the sea-witch,
tore my tail apart
til it made two legs.
Shed every single scale
til the skin underneath
wept red tears.

I made a deal with the sea-witch
I gave her what was left of my tail.

I made a deal with the sea-witch,
I didn't realize that
my rebirth from the waves
onto the gritty shore
would be the last time
I tasted the salt on my tongue
and the wind in my mermaid-hair.

I made a deal with the sea-witch
I gave her my soul.
This seems like it was inspired by the Little Mermaid, but it started out going in a completely different direction. Only when I finally finished the poem and showed it to a friend did I realize that it has a lot of parallels with Ariel's story, but I didn't actually mean it to be that way.
You smile at me  
Across the way  
I can see your eyes  
And I feel a vague  
“something” deep inside.
Ignore it. Keep it out.  
Don’t let it get a hold of you.  
Don’t let HIM get a hold of you.

You introduce yourself
Tell me your name
Little tidbits of information
That I take up and put away
A magpie hoarding shiny bits of you.  
That “something” is taking shape.

Stop it.  
You already know how it’s going to end.  
You’ve been through this before.

Days go by.  
Your eyes, your voice
Pass through my head  
More than I care to admit.  
For once, excitement gleams in the air,
Because I might see you again.  

It’s not too late.  
You know what’s right.  
You know what’s best for you.

Maybe I do but  
It all falls away  
Once I see your face.  
I can’t help it  
Your smile, your voice  
Has overtaken my mind
I can only try to hide  
The jolt in my chest  
The smile in my heart  
That happens whenever you walk in.  

*Too late.
This poem was featured in my school's literary magazine last year.
When I found out
about your little game.
I laughed.
First in anger,
then in spite.
It was so very petty after all.

Your big persona
clothed in a bespangled mantle
of hypocrisy and loyalty
came apart
just like you did
when things began to crack.

Your hands
capable of spinning rifles
and commanding cadets
failed to handle me
in all my complexities.
I do not fault you for that
after all it takes a strong man
to be with a strong woman
but i do fault you
for the veiled hypocrisy
you showed at every turn.

You questioned my loyalty
insinuated at flirtations
flaunted your jealousy
Yet behind my back
all the while
showed honeyed intentions
to the girls in your tracks.

You gave me up
like an unhousebroken puppy,
that had bitten
your tremendous ego.
Citing your love for me
and your good intentions
while all you wished for
was to roam free.

When I figured out your little game
I laughed
first in anger,
then in spite.
But now,
when I think of your game,
I do neither
because the games of small men
no longer interest me,
and neither do you.
It's funny how people you thought were good people can turn out to be such *******, but hey that's life. It felt good to get this out because bitterness is too heavy to bear for long.
Write a happy story,
They said.
They did not know
Pencils grow heavier
As they scratch lies across a page.

Pretty girl,
Handsome boy.
Sparks that flew
Hearts that grew
Lips that met.

Write a happy story,
They said.
They did not know
That life gets in the way
Of fledging happiness.

Pretty girl,
Handsome boy.
Words that fell
Down the nape of her neck
And into her chest.
Fingers that caressed
The line of his jaw
And the ridge of her cheek.
Whispers that rose
Yielding into the ice of the moon
And crept into the lining of their souls.

Write a happy story,
They said.
They did not know
Happiness carries the inevitability
Of pain underneath its wings.

Pretty girl,
Handsome boy.
One basket of memories never made
And of growing disappointments.
One slowly cooling heart.
Two stale throats musty and seldom used.

Write a happy story,
They said.
They did not know
That no matter how much heart’s-blood
You pour into their soul,
Sooner or later, destiny comes to play.
Even the greatest love story,
eventually finds an end.  

Pretty girl,
Handsome boy.
Fairy-tales incarnate.
But fairy-tales cannot survive in this world.
The magic mirrors cracked.
The poisoned apples fail.
The dragons triumph.
The animals voiceless.
The princes leave.
The princesses stray.

Write a happy story,
They said.
I wrote them a fairy tale,
But happiness had already flown away,
And my pencil had been
Too dull to capture it again.
There are times when I can eat the world alive.
The hunger in my veins
glows red-hot and consumes all logic.
The hunger in my veins
rushes to my head and burns up the facade.
The facade of innocence in my eyes
that collapses as the fire mounts and I'm alone.

It takes a special one to banish
the lies in my eyes,
to capture the fire and make it grow.

Darling, the hunger in my veins
it yearns for you.
The hunger in my veins,
it grows anew.

I dreamed of your touch last night,
woke up half insane.
Eros keeps teasing me
with thoughts of you.
Through sun and moonlight
your scent in my rumpled sheets
fills my mind.

Take me
rain hard kisses down my throat.
Take me
slake your lust on the softness of my skin.
Take me
offer up a sacrifice to Aphrodite's son.
Take me
drain the hunger in my veins.
Take me
in between the darkness and the light.

*Satisfy me.
The moon called upon my madness anew,
I closed my eyes and fought against the chains
That kept me waiting, waiting here for you.

You gulped down my world without so much a chew,
Enveloped everything with your scent, became my raving bane.
The chains, the chains garlanded in lilac and rue,

Alone keep me from going moonlight-mad, so they do.
The gentle ice face of the mother moon keeps penetrating my brain.
That kept me waiting, waiting here for you.

This is the stage set for the heavenly wars Ares loves to brew,
The battle fought over our love so strong that left it slain.
The chains, the chains garlanded in lilac and rue,

The chains, the chains made of silver came askew,
Like your hands in mine and whatever feelings may still remain,
That kept me waiting, waiting here for you.

My madness has awoken the moon-bird blue,
Soon it will fly down and cut through the silvery veins.
The chains, the chains garlanded in lilac and rue,
That kept me waiting, waiting here for you.
This was written for a project in my English class. The assignment was to model a poem by your chosen poet. In my case, I chose Sylvia Plath's "Mad Girl's Love Song".
Sometimes life is going to get tough. Sometimes you’re lucky enough to have some beauty interspersed with all the drama and sadness, but other times it’s just one blow after the other. Sometimes you’re going to feel like something is wrenching you into pieces and like there isn’t any way out of the situation, but you have to remember that there is. There’s always a second chance. There’s always some sort of relief, you just have to take the trouble to find it. You are always stronger than you realize, and the big picture isn’t half bad. There will be friends along the way, and new loves, and sweetness interspersed amongst the madness, and you will get through it, even when it seems like everything has gone to ****. Give thanks for what you do have, work hard, and the rest will fall into place.
The pain
Of hearing words
Of hate and violence
Spilling from the mouth
Of someone so beloved
Burns so hot it turns to ice
Within my chest.
The pain
From the words
That seared into my skin so deep
You could find them branded
Into the lining of my lungs
So that my very breathing
Was punctured by your anger.

If you tell someone
Something long and often enough
It becomes their religion.
Your words of hate become their prayer
And the doctrine one of self-loathing
And smile-covered sadness.

If you had one constant
It would be anger.
Anger that simmers underneath your love
And erupts with the fury of hate.
Kindness and understanding
Are in short supply in your world.
My love for you
Is the only chain
That binds me to you,
The only chain that keeps me
From flying away from
The spite and resentment
That seeps into your tongue.

If you tell someone you love them
Often and long enough
Your words take root inside their heart
and weld chains that keep them bound to you.
If you tell someone you love them
The dictionary of hate
Should not leak from your tongue,
If you tell someone you love them
Furies’ kisses
Should not rain from your fists,
If you tell someone you love them
The poisons of resentment
Should not spill forth from the dark side of your soul.

If you tell me you love me
You could tear me apart
But never lose me.
that sad sweet longing
for something larger than
our fragile souls.

my heart weighs heavy inside
my chest. full of salt
and tears.

leaving home seemed so easy
yet now nothing is clear
enough to know
what i will miss most.

the wind in the palms or the
sun on my cheeks.

i was never one to stay close to the nest.
my dreams always had a tinge of the
exotic and the scent of far-away places.

i've known too many nights where i've
dreaded coming home to not know
that this is exactly what i need.

freedom has come, not on the wings of a born-again eagle
but rather in the silent shadows and icy
winds of change.

because some people's love burns
like fire and hurts too much
to bear for long

i've sustained fourth degree burns
so far beyond the surface of my skin
that i will bear wounds that never fully heal.

the iron seeds from her throat have
taken hold in my heart and
will forever hold it in their grip.

some memories deserve to be remembered
while others serve only to be locked up
and buried deep within a chest bound by fragile bones and bitterness.

my heart hurts too much
to stay awake much longer.
wake me up when the pain has passed.

i've woven straw into gold for much too long.
Take me where
this fear and loathing
within me are quenched.

I do not know why
my heart has ceased to persist.
I do not know why
my aim has become so directionless.

I have nowhere to go
No one to see.
Sometimes I wish
you were next to me.

Until  I remember the times
I held my tongue so long I forgot
how to release the words in my head
into the dead air.

I do know why
I cannot speak now.
I do know why
My lips refused to part
for either words or kisses
in those final days.

I took all the words I ever meant to say
and locked them up tight
for fear that releasing them
would open a Pandora's box of struggle.

I do not know why
words have such power
to throw away a love so repeated.

I do not know why
you didn't choose to gather up my words
and hand hope back to me
that you would come back and stay.
A dart of a glance
Felt across a crowded room.
A playful bantering
turned to something darker, deeper.
A smoldering gaze
lasting just a second too long.
A hesitant hand
pushing a stray curl into place.
Coherent thoughts
turned into an unlikely jumble.
And that one question
is answered,
using no words,
except the ones in the language
that has withstood millenia of human existence,
the language of seduction.
Another older poem.
don't take the trouble
of looking into my eyes.
The lies, they lie too deep
for you to find.
The lies, they ran too far
into the cobwebs of my mind.
The lies, they wandered too long
in the darkness of my heart.

"The lies, where are the lies?"
they clamor.
"They took over my reality,"
is my clever answer.
Fire's beauty cannot be contested
even though it can't help but
burn when you come closer.
(He's fire)

The power of a black tiger
is entrancing
until it devours you, body and soul.
(He's an animal)

The high ******* brings is
addictive even when you
fall into a hell of your own making
(He's a drug)

He's fascinating

Stories about him
shock yet his
rampage on the vulnerable hearts
of this world
will never cease.

(He's toxic.)
I wrote this two years ago when a boy broke my heart for the first time. He was the kind of person that was hard to get over, and the heartbreak was what made me start writing poetry in an effort to get the frustration out.
My love can only be true,
he said, as he parted my lips with tenderness.
The laurels, they can lie too.

The sunlight rained down from skies awash with dew,
As my world rejoiced, sure nothing was amiss,
For the words from his lips could only ring true.

My darling, my sweetheart, I want to marry you,
He whispered, flooding my heart with profound happiness.
The laurels, they can lie too.

The messenger dove came too late, loaded with sadness and rue,
The festivities had commenced, the lovely couple a-bliss.
For the words from his lips could only ring true.

My dress snow-white, his eyes ocean-blue,
My broken heart rose-red, riven apart with sweetness.
The laurels, they can lie too.

As Hera’s lover had been untrue, so had you,*
I said, poisoning his mouth with one swift kiss.
For the words from his lips could only ring true,
The laurels, they can lie too.
Just another villanelle.

Her hair
falls not in flawless curls
around a porcelain face.

It flows into the hungry wind
a lion's mane.

Her laugh
tinkles not like
so many silver bells.

It crashes and bubbles
an ocean tide.

Her desires
hide not under the glass
of an innocent exterior.

They smolder on the surface of her skin.
Volatile fires
by turn gentle flames
or blazing infernoes.

To be a wild girl
is both a gift and a curse.
To feel everything
from love to hate
at the base of your throat and the
heart of your soul.
To be both feared and wanted
by strong and weak men.
To live one's life
searching for one
whose heart is strong enough
to run alongside someone so free.

— The End —