all my demons have awakened
from such long, deep slumber
like rampant creatures with wounds to mend,
and so i caressed their madness out of grief
inside my soul's dimly lit chamber.

IA

find yourself in the seams of my musings;
a tale of young love, a tale of sweet tragedy,
a warm hug of belonging, a cold release of parting,
such restless heart wanders, high hopes as remedy.

IA

with a sophisticated touch,
a burning wildfire heart,
a chaotic mind unmatched,
she is a strong woman, an art.

and when they ask,
"when strong women are down,
to whom or when do they unmask?"
i'd say they'll weep but never be their own let down.

IA

i know a tragic poetry;

two souls met and burned together
for each other and for the world,
fate blew the flame and then
they parted as strangers.

IA

i'm no angel;
sometimes i lick off love
in the edges of a knife.

i'm no angel;
when midnight strikes,
i've got demons awakened inside me.

i'm no angel;
i have vices and flaws and darkness,
a chaos only i, can romanticize.

i'm no angel;
because i realized the violence in love,
the predicament of my demons,
and the chaos in my soul, deeply carved.

IA