Somehow I knew you before
in a cottage;
in tepid water;
in the absence,
waiting in
songs,
stories,
my own prayers,
and in dreams detailing
small snippets of the to-be
like clippings of newspaper.

I thought I’d lost you,
and I waded through hail
and quicksand,
trying to dig deeper,
but I hadn’t met you yet,
so when I started to remember
these sounds
sleeping in my mind
I knew I had to trek back.

Your voice plays,
like a record long saved, tucked away,
playing as it did the very first time;
each touch, a step
to a dance I always loved
but convinced myself I’d forgotten;
your smile, a comfort lost in childhood
somewhere,
a sun shining in my memories,
and I knew I recognized it.

You had to be ethereal.

Some people cast a renewal on themselves
And i ponder almost annoyingly if Witches really do exist
I guess they do when people only have one thing on their mind all the time
Such an empty shell and i don't even want to go inside it
Even if you paid me
She only cares about her looks and wants nothing to do with any man unless he's loaded
He only cares about getting in her pants and off to the next one
They act like they're the best thing to happen since we first walked into Mesopotamia
I just can't stomach any of it
Admit the fact you're going to be just like everyone else when you're dead
Sorry, am i putting truth inside your head?
This is a vitamin that doesn't taste good
Gladly sponsored by me
Where are the human beings?

I know that you know
The pain you're so addicted to
Is not truly an addiction
To being hurt
To being made worthless
To feeling inadequate
It's an addiction to
Consistency
To feeling routine
But I know that you know
It's unhealthy
It's harmful
It's cruel
It's mean
Go find love elsewhere
Somewhere with respect
Somewhere with happiness
Somewhere without pain
I know that you know
It will not be easy
But I also know that you know
You need to do it
Because once upon a time
I was just like you
Addicted to the consistency
Of the abuse

You                                                              ­                                       have
 
  always                                                ­                                          been 
 
    a butterfly;                                                       ­              waiting for
        your day to                                                       break from that
          cocoon. At least                                       cocoons are warm
              and cozy, they                 say.         Cozy, until someone
                walks by, piercing holes,      creating a draft. Though
                    it’s easier to breathe and much clearer to see.
            May it be better to pierce        holes in the cocoon than
           in those completed wings?        Creating more flexibility,
               it is much easier to                     expand, though it
                  raises the risk                          of being shattered                    
                   before those                                 wings have
                         fully                                          matured.

I am the Empress of Darkness
I conjure coal and obsidian
from smoke-curled skies
I am bent on destruction
of the inner deaths
                       that exist
creeping up my spine
I am a raging inner momentum
                          of swirling clouds
holding the black seas at bay
I wish to conjure darkness
                       in order to bring light
first clearing out
all that has claimed me
chase it away from the
fog that has coated
                     my bones and organs
Bring it on, I say
Filter right out of me
    Demise: Hear me clear
You are no longer welcome
in the echoed canyons of this heart
I throw you into
the reverse quilt of stars
and you fall like a blanket
upon the night's clear breath
I am the Empress of Light
and I claim myself back
I take back the cloak
of what was always mine
Hear my cry
Let your eyes mist over in
familiar newness
Cower in your own shadow
for it is my time to shine

If I allowed myself to trust you
Would I have chosen right?
Should I believe that you can help me?
Or should I retreat again into my night?

See, every time I've tried to trust
I've always gotten burned.
Could this time end up differently?
Have the tables finally turned?

Please understand I'm slow to trust
And even slower in sharing my soul.
Patience and a kind ear are what I need.
Can you provide these, and console?

I have hidden my pain from many a friend
And have held in my tears for many a day.
Can you uncover these hidden relics?
Or will you use my sorrow as your hideaway?

For trust is like the words that you use;
Easy to say, but impossible to retrieve.
'Cause once you've trusted and been broken down
you learn to keep your heart off of your sleeve.

So that is why I pen this poem:
To try to express my feelings to you.
I'm truly trying to trust again,
But the betrayals I've felt are too hard to eschew.