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Bernice Helena Feb 2019
I've been still,
Caught in a sweet stasis,
Buried under the same, baseless
Candied gags, slippery hags, body bags ー
But I can't go back.
Haven't moved forward either,
So I still sit silent here.
Maybe I'll someday wither ー

Like dandelions as they scatter in the wind,
I will feel no more the weight of societal sins.
Staying awake in anticipation;
That feeling you get when you see a road blocked
and a wrecked car hoping it was an accident
Eventful; excitement to see that tar black
Crimson on tarmac
and those trampled, broken-pretty shells ー

I want to be a doll.
A pretty hollow pale porcelain
you still can't hurt when I slip through your hands,
Or when you let go and drop me,
Or smash me into the ground ー
It's all the same, isn't it?
You buy, bore, break, blame, build, rebuild
Rebreak, reblame, replace...

I remake real-fake love into stanza-sized stories
Just to rebrand them as poetry;
A molded part to inspire some abstract art.
They're better off that way,
Locked in and stationary;
Sweet standstill sanctuary.
And I'll stay to watch their models fail and break,
As they too, disintegrate ー fellow ******* degenerates

This time I was at your disposal,
But we're all just glorified disposables ー
Ever-hungry, hedonistic at heart.
Excuse her language.

Bernice Helena Feb 2019
It's strange.
Progressively faint,
Denouncing a saint.

It's strained.
Every smile forced;
A pain to paint!

It's a disdain.
To detach it from my veins,
Watching my affections wane.

It's a change!
Perverse propulsion, *******
Into a new unwilling, unsuspecting
Star, sun, sky.
From the hollows of her heart.
Bernice Helena Feb 2019
It's certainly not a fond habit of mine,
But there comes an inevitable time
To redefine the value of every borderline.

Pick apart the pretty pieces
And unfold all their concealing creases;

Can the paling be restored with mere polish?

Our decorous veneer has run dry,
So I'll bid you one final frivolous goodbye.

Albeit I must sincerely confess:
They were never the best,
Ergo it hurt less.
Bernice Helena Jan 2019
The crescendo of a forgotten love,
Incessant humming, drumming ー
Stirring from the cauldron of the soul,
Shot forth into the cold
Skies and seas above.
Sometimes it's best not to bottle it up for too long.
Bernice Helena Dec 2018
A touch of darkness
Gently lifts the veil of dawn.
I smile.

You are not there.

Take on the morning waltz,
Like ghosts ー drifting on;
Cycle of love,

Harrowing raptures.

Your scent, an acute absence
of apples, roses and sunlight,
Fills and intrudes and begs to consume

The remains of my rationality.
Once the apple of my eye --  so harrowing and sweet.
Bernice Helena Dec 2018
Rhythmic incessant thuds,
Drum rolls of flowing blood.
They ringed in my ears,
Welcomed my deepest fears.

A fragility of the flesh,
Shredding open with each new lash.
A fortress of stones, bone-brittle,
Shattering like an overflooded skull.

Haemorrhage, haemorrhage
How they gush,
Bright red, lovesick
Always in a rush.

To think that each wall I built
Only heightened the fall.
Each scar was a sensation,
I know they watched in awe.

Of flesh and stone,
They contest my throne.
but eventual.
Which "me" will I be today?
Bernice Helena Dec 2018
Caged marionette, dance for me
Your glass chains hold no reins
It's time to break free.
The Light only shows you known lanes,
I will lead you down greater plains.

Your gaze is uncertain,
You falter ever so slightly.
Fear not, lost kitten,
I am yours for eternity.

Young Antoinette, come to me
A train of sorrow ー your best dress
So throw away that leaden pedigree.
The old masters may try to oppress,
Noble heartache you must suppress.

You take one last look
As I wait for thee,
At the safe sullen rook,
A prison it will no longer be.

Naive brunette, sway with me
For the heart and soul you sold,
Was it not I who answered your plea?
Tonight, we shall step past a new threshold,
Its whereabouts ー to God and enlightened beings, untold.

In darkness and damnation,
You remain smitten with me.
With no fear or salvation,
We waltz through tragedies.
His name is Mr. D
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