Why is poetry so easy to write
when you're really really sad?
Boy when the tears they come again
my muse he will be glad,

Becuz today I'm not that way at all,
well I'm feeling only happy,
so the muse he's gone elusive still,
an my writing rather sappy,

But I will write again I'm sure,
still I pray he let me be,
I want to be a poet true,
though one who's heart is free.
.

Ma Cherie © 2017

four hours of sleep
three days of fluffy frills, lace, and cat ears
four days of flannels and dark eyeliner
five hundred twenty five thousand six hundred minutes of good music

how to create a me
but you wont want to.

side effects include:
depression
anxiety
isolation
manipulation

is it worth it?

I'm a little traumatized for not being able to write for so long.
Am I somewhere between writers block or I don't know what to write?

I'm a little bit traumatized, well not a little bit but a whole lot bit.

My passion stays burning but where's my need for writing?

Tell me will you poet?
tell me sweetly in my ear,
tell me of your darkest sin,
and of your hidden fear,
then I will tell it back to you ,
and jot it right down here,
so tell me if you go with it ,
just what you wish to hear?

( I'm listening )

I can tell you that you're perfect,
that you're nice as nice can be,
an I'll tell you that I am your friend,
that you have a friend in me,

( ugh...not so much )

I'll tell you-
you're the handsomest,
as handsome as a star,
the dreamy one from childhood,
who lives somewhere a far,

( I wish... )

I'll tell you that you're wonderful,
that you're honest -
and you're sweet,
an I'll be at your beckon call,
just waiting at your feet,
I will be the sweetest girl,
that you will ever meet,

( Oh boy )

I'll curve the pretty world you view,
an distort it if I must,
tell me will you poet,
are my words the ones you trust?
I can tell a sad goodbye,
or sheets we tangle up in lust,

( ....uh..notta chance, but-)

I can tell of heated passion,
of heated lovers in the night,
while some have heated *******,
some others have a fight,
either way with all that heat,
there's hope they both ignite,
an when you cut your own hand off,
it's only YOU-
you spite,

( OK don't get pissy )

So I can kiss you with my paper,
I can caress you with my pen,
I can leave you feeling anxious love,
or I can leave you feeling zen,
I can be beside you there,
just name it where and when,

( hope not tho )

I can mention that you're genius,
just the smartest guy I know,
except for when it comes to love,
and then it's all for show,
or I can just omit that part,
so no one ever know,

( I'm sure you'd prefer that )

I can tell you any fake thing,
so sweetly in your ear,
it may not be the truth though,
and there in lies the fear,
if I tell you only truth then,
when I'm drawn in really near,
then tell me will you poet,
what should I say my dear?

( oy vey )

Because some objectified objects,
well they have opinions too,
and flattery gets you no where see,
even if these facts I say are true,
it's only in a certain light,
when you tip it all askew,
so that everyone can finally see,

The real "beauty" there in you,
as it all comes out,
now so clearly into view,

And I wonder why would I-
ever waste a single precious breath?!

Ma Cherie © 2017

I am so sad
I cried in the dressing room again.
I am so sad.
With music and alcohol and people smiling around me.
I am so sad
I am spitting venom at people I love
People I like
People who make me smile
Because I am
So
******* sad
I am going to shut the world out
Have this pity party of one
This ******* lamentation
Of my good life
Of my easy life
Of my glitter covered
Music fueled
Life.
Because I am so sad.
And I don't think
I DO NOT BELIEVE
I deserve the help to feel better.
I am the firefighter, the champion, the
Positivity in their lives
I have it so well
I live it so well
But
I
Am
So
Sad.
And it is wearing me out.

****** in the back of
my friend's dad's car
on a february night
after three **** packs
A dozen fake laughs
Mild smiles that seemed convincing
and I still don't feel a thing
except for your words
from years ago cutting into my spine


I'm tired

I found myself looking aimlessly
through the few things she left behind
just trinkets really
nothing of real value
My eye caught a glimpse
of something under her bed
way back in the dark corner
wrapped in dust bunnies...

oh never mind, that's just my heart

The hard part about telling someone you dont love them
Is meaning it