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WhoIsCristinaJXO Apr 2020
Alone in a room with nothing but the company of my inner thoughts driving me to the brink of insanity, I lie on my bed, phone in hand, searching for the words to tell you how I feel.

Unsure of my own emotions and still scarred from past relationships, I am scared to admit that somewhere within the quiet, dark realm of my soul, that I crave something as fickle as love.

I’ve tried to suppress my feelings for you, countless times in fear that if I confess them aloud that it would somehow make what I feel for you all too real. Although there aren’t many things that I fear in this world, the mere thought of falling in love frightens me most.

I look up at the ceiling, tears streaming down my face. Why is it so hard to admit that I like you out loud? Within my heart, I know that I want this. Am I ready to fall victim to the uncertainties that the cruel mistress called “love” has to offer?

I pick up the phone and begin typing.
The three dots of death begin to dance before my screen.
Throwing my phone far away from me as possible, I pace around my room as overwhelming thoughts begin to crowd my head.

I fall onto my bed, close my eyes and then I see your smile, one of the few things that I treasure in this world, and I am comforted.

PING.

Out of nowhere, my phone drowns out the deafening silence in within my room. I read the message and every ounce of anxiety and fear faded away as I read your response.

Written By: Helene J.C. Armbrister
WhoIsCristinaJXO Apr 2020
In what world do strangers become admirers?
In what world do admirers become romantically involved?
In what world do romantically involved people become distant friends?
How do distant friends become enemies?

Please tell me…

How do you recover from being hurt by the one you loved the most?
How do you skillfully apply chestnut concealer to a tear-stained face?
How do you not cry yourself to sleep after an unexplained separation?
How does one visit the coffee shop where Sinatra played softly in the background drowning out the deafening voice of anxiety as he held your hand ever so tightly, calming your panicked inner thoughts?

How does one forget the feeling of insecurity after their first kiss, spending countless showers analyzing what it possibly could’ve meant?

Do they teach little boys to experiment with little girls’ hearts in your world?

Only in your world can you take a ******’s lips and steal her innocence with a kiss.
Only in your world can you take an insecure ******’s affections for you and devour them with a smile.

How does one simply stop loving you, even after all the pain you’ve caused?

Written By: Helene J.C. Armbrister
WhoIsCristinaJXO Apr 2020
You’ve heard the tales of Barghest, Black Shuck or Cerberus,
Perhaps you know them very well.
But I know of a malevolent beast, with vicious teeth,
Called “Love”, the dog from Hell.

His master looks up from below, searching for Love’s newest victim.
He’ll send you a well-endowed man with a curvature in his member,
Who’ll say all the right things to leave you smitten.

He’ll take you for ice-cream, have parked-car conversations,
Then ******* mercilessly after.
You’ll go back home, wait for an improbable text on your phone,
Unaware of the impending disaster.

“Love” then disguises itself, appearing to be something innocent and pure.
And when you’ve fallen for him, he’ll stop texting you,
Causing heartbreak, chaos and emotional torment.
For that, you can be sure.

And when you’ve been beat down, traumatized and broken, praying that the hurt is no more,
Love sends you another, to distract you from the others,
Leaving you more damaged than before.

“Love” then returns to the sunken place
Proud that he’s served his master well.
For as long as you are mortal, let it not depart from you that
“Love” is a dog from Hell.

Written By: Helene J.C. Armbrister
WhoIsCristinaJXO Mar 2020
It seems like pain and regret are your best friends because our nights together seem only to lead to them.

We’ve been lying to each other about our nights spent apart, hiding the evidence behind plastic smiles to spare each other another broken heart.

I know what you did when you left my company for a girl you’ve claimed to have missed. I will not get jealous and call this thing between us quits, but tell me, does she touch you here like this?

I see that she is beautiful, perhaps the most beautiful by far. I see that she makes you feel good about who you are. So tonight, I will ******* until you are too tired to leave because although she’s what you want, I am what you need.

I guess she found out about our secret rendezvous and now she doesn’t want you anymore. Here you are crying and pleading to spend the night on my floor. Begging me to shelter you from the emptiness that presents itself in these cold, lonely streets have to offer.

So, I step aside and lead you to your favorite place, entangled in my satin sheets. But I must warn you, these nights, past, present and for however long we have left mean nothing to me. I’ve been doing this for so long, I promise you I’ve seen it all.

First, you’ll hate her, then you’ll want me; then you’ll miss her and you’ll hate me. I know you so well. I know your routine.
This is all just a game to me. We mean nothing to each other. This is nothing new.

I told you, a long time ago, not to get involved with a girl like me because you are solely a means to escape my present reality.
So, don’t promise me that you won’t regret me like doing a line of ivory, like the tattoos on your skin or like taking the wrong pill. Don’t promise me that when you go back to her that you’ll remember me.

So, I’ll own your soul for tonight only so that each time you **** her, it’s my face you’ll see.

Written by: Helene J.C. Armbrister
This poem was inspired by The Weeknd's debut project: Trilogy. It explores a darker side of my writing.
WhoIsCristinaJXO Mar 2020
Two souls,
Searching for consolation, longing for peace, praying for absolution are brought together by the buzzing of a bee.
They found themselves wrapped around each other underneath the cascading moonlight near the quiet sea.

She’s hesitant, still recovering from unhealed traumas inflicted by the demons of her past. He pulls her closer to him, her head turning slightly away from him in fear that this might not last.

He’s not like the others, for he’s haunted by a past of his own. He’s forthcoming his tragedy which hardened his heart like a stone.

Over the course of time, the pair found peace within the company of each other which is what she’s always wanted. But now that peace has turned to fear for keeping a secret from him in which she feels haunted.

She’s made the juvenile mistake of falling for him in fear that he doesn’t feel the same, because the lack of replies and late night sessions have started to feel like a game.

She longs to free herself from the agony of falling in love again. If only he knew how much she loves him, then she would be free of this pain.

She sits on the shore where they’ve sat down before, picking up her pencil to write how she feels. She hopes when he sees this that he’ll understand what she feels for him is real.

Written by: Helene J.C. Armbrister
WhoIsCristinaJXO Mar 2020
Three days.

Three days of silence.

The absence of your presence awakens familiar feelings of anger, self doubt, and insecurity.
How is it that I keep traveling down the same road?

It’s as if I am the sole passenger forced to ride an eternal roller coaster of mixed, complicated emotions.

Why do I keep reopening the wounds in my heart only to fill them with endless nights of meaningless *** and mind-altering substances?

Perhaps, I torture myself with synthesized happiness because secretly I enjoy the notions that they present.

But alas, perhaps succumbing to these masochistic tendencies may be my undoing....

Written by: Helene J.C. Armbrister
WhoIsCristinaJXO Mar 2020
As she saunters through the door of your cold, frozen heart, I pray your new conquest leaves a violent trail of destruction.

I pray that for every time she plants a kiss upon your frosted lips, the blood in your veins slowly begins to freeze, sending agonizing pain radiating throughout your body.

I pray that when the shower head rains on your cold, dead skin, you are reminded of the many times my tears were shed in your honor.

I pray that for every mirror that you set your gaze upon reflects every wicked deed committed by you, leaving you ashamed of yourself.

I pray…

That you, Ice King, will never experience the warmth of anyone’s affections and that one day, you will shiver at the thought of extinguishing the flame that we once had.

Written By: Helene J.C. Armbrister

— The End —