M'oeillade

I see him in her. Every utterance, every gesture, every breath of hers reminds me of him. He was powerful with his words and influences;  he manipulated those around him with ease like marionettes in a honeyed spectacle, myself included. I find myself acting like him, subconsciously finding my way back into his slender grasp by becoming him himself.

 He haunts me. His presence still lingers here. I'm uncertain as to how long this arid drought of intolerable silence shall be sustained but I am dying. I am dying of thirst. I am a lover of water and he is the rain. His love courses through my body like the blood in my veins. But my pertinacity delays my action; Oh Hamlet how your inaction afflicts me. Never another amorous glance shall I catch, my short-lived oeillade has begun to decay.

The Blooming of Madness

Last night,
I wrote a Haiku
amidst my dreams.
A beautiful tragedy,
encompassing my feelings,
reminding me of him.
But in the morning light,
it was gone,
just as the shadows
of his presence.

In the land of Gods and Monsters

There was comfort in loving the devil.
To know that I could solitarily bring purity into his heart alleviated my appetite for danger and purpose.
Trying to tame such a wild heart came with its pernicious repercussions. Playing with fire will undoubtedly burn you, and burn I did.
I gave him my heart, thinking he could change his ways and put away his harlotry, my raw vermilion scars the result of my foolishness.
The Devil is real and he's not some little red man with horns and a tail.
He can be beautiful because he's a fallen angel. He used to be God's favorite.

An Introspection

Deep inside, she knew who she was,
and that person was smart, kind and often funny,
but somehow her personality always got lost
between her heart and her mouth,
and she always found herself saying the wrong thing or,
more often, nothing at all.

Melancholy Enigma

A kind of smile can say
"You don't know me,
and you never will."

Untitled

I want you to sneak up behind me
And whisper in my ear
All the things
I've been dying to hear.

"Hell is empty, all the devils are here"

She cries at 3 am, trying to muffle the angst so no one is awoken by her deplorable tears.
She feels pathetic and weak, staring at the ceiling in the darkness, thinking of all her peculiarities.
She realizes no one truly knows the unhappiness that rages through her restless heart.
She trusts no one after what you did, she lies through her teeth to appease their curiosities.
She knows no one cares either, everyone is off in their world while she waits, abandoned, in a crevasse between humanity's degeneracy.

I long for that feeling to not feel at all.

I hate you.
I hate what you've made me, an endless abyss of unforgivable spite.
I hate you when you're away because I think of how you treat me.
I hate you even more when you're with me because I melt into your sugared words, my sign of weakness.
I hate you when you're with friends because you act as if nothing has happened, something I try to convince myself everyday.
I hate you.
I hate you.


But you're forever on my mind.


Can you hear my silence,
Can you see the the darkness,
Can you fix the broken,
Can you feel my heart,

I refuse to feel anymore .

"The Cheap Shot"

There is hurt here.

The type that cannot be mended by Band-Aids or poetry.

A type of hurt that compels me to harshly remind you of the mistake you made at every opportunity I get.

You're ignorant to the fact that I am constantly in pain.
No matter how insignificant your misconduct seems, it still burns with vigorous flames.

I don't know if I'll ever really forgive you for your mistake, betraying the trust I had hesitantly bestowed in you,

But I cannot seem to unhinge myself from your hypnotic incantation.

Carrie and me

You broke me.

You broke my heart.

And I hate you because I still love you.

And I hate myself even more for it.

Are you happy now

Vilipend my bereavement

You say it was an honest mistake,

And I say it's fine,

I'm accustomed to recovering the pieces

Of my fractured heart after your

'Mistakes.'

Ensconce my reverie.

I will never reveal the deepest, darkest corners of my mind to you,
For you'll cradle them and claim them as your own mission to conquer.
I am not your charity,
And I don't need saving from these thoughts...
Only a means to ease the pain.

Home

Where our minds grow small,

And our legs grow tall,

Where we learn how to utter our first words,

And take the first steps on our own two feet,

Where we learn to love with fervent compassion,

And forgive those who wound us,

Where our hearts are awoken and kept alive,

And where our fear is taken,

Where we feel comforted and secure from our nightmares,

And seek refuge in the eye of the storm,

Where we feel more confident in ourselves,

And in our skin, find our true identity.

Our home is where we belong and where we fit in regardless of our differences.

Our hearts are buried just beyond the gracious horizon of our town, our city, our country.

We are the greatest pretenders in morning light; but at home, we feel relief in exposing our vulnerable veracity.

In the morning when we wake, familiar aromas of home fill our lungs with sweetness and fill our head with harmony.

When the evening pulls the sun down and the day is almost through, our longing for happiness is satiated by the warm presence of our family and familiar surroundings.

As Dorothy said, there is no place like home.

A kaleidoscopic fear resides here...

I have a fear that one day you'll see me the way I see myself..

This impure toxin is Romeo

He was the foulest of disease, corrupting her bones, consuming her whole with  agonizing feeling.
He held her innocent and inexperienced heart in his earnest hands, promising he would cherish it with the greatest care. He promised no harm would ever befall her.
The most painful lie he ever told.
She knew of his harlot ways, but she still chose that path;
and now she felt her heart collapsing and fracturing into pieces of guilt and regret.

She fought for him, the foulest of men. She thought he was hers, a prize for being patient, her dues owed to her for battling the dark shadows of her mind...
but all in vain.
She felt her chest catching fire, tightening as the tears streamed down her ever-rosy cheeks.
She chilled her body with the thought of his deception and lies.


His hands dug into her wounds and  wrenched out all happiness that  was slowly healing the remnants of your presence.
She knew she mistreated you, but your presence still lingers there and reminds her of what she really deserves...
You'll never love her again, the thought of her is overwhelming for your indifferent heart, but she begs you, don't forget her.

Paradoxical kiss

"I see in you this wish to simplify me. To have me change and with singular purpose focused upon you, forsaking the darker shades of my creativity and licentiousness. It is beyond you to accept who I am and still love me the way you do.
Do you not see the paradox? In this change, the midnight creature you seek to captivate would no longer exist. I would cease to be this libertine of a woman. This vastly complex, frustrating, difficult, ridiculous woman is the embodiment of your desire, don't try and rectify that."

- Eloise

You need to stop caring.

I was a shadow of love, then. A mirage of the purity I wanted you to see reflected in me. Demons always dwelt in this temple of ruin - and I kept them from you... from everyone. I guarded my secret, sullied self with icy perfection, so that when you left, I ignorantly reassured myself that you never really knew me nor loved me. There was a sad solace in that.

You damned me for a few words of honesty I spoke to you at a party once, cuttingly polite, drunk with the strain of pretending not to want you. I succumbed to my shallow, yet fervent desires. I made a mistake that night. I finally revealed something of my true self; something dark that shattered the world you had balanced so carefully upon your denial.

I saw your pain then, and I see it now. Like the poison intoxicating your veins, like vermilion cigarette singes on the back of your heart, I tore through your ravaged soul. I told you it would come to this. A pasquinade you never truly accepted as realism.

I'm far past gone.

My tears asphyxiate me to the point where I can no longer feel my oscillating lungs,
My tears catch my breath to the point where I can no longer utter the remnants your name,
My tears blind me to the point where I can no longer see the malicious web I've woven,
My tears express the overwhelming pain I feel in my heart as it dissolutes for you,
My tears are the symbol of what a mistake I am.
My tears fall and crash dejectedly around me, leaving only the rubble to mark your departure.
You've left and all that remains is a glacial wind that chills the skeletons off trees.

Haerts on fire.

Stop feeling guilty about something that should make us happy. 

What’s done is done.

Most of us are bitter over someone.

We try to distract ourselves from ever missing them with the black splintered shards of subtances.

I'm forever missing them, Hamlet, Zeus, Antony.

But the past cannot be erased or changed, Romeo; so let's move forward with this new relationship.

The "Replacement"

Your tears fall so often they've formed an ocean as vast as the be-stilled horizon of the Arctic.
Forming an oasis so unreal, they've become the soothing liniment for your immortal pain.
To feel pain compensates little for feeling nothing at all.
Your heavy indifference on emotions has you cynical of this love.
The opposite of love is not indifference rather sadness, that the one to whom your affection is given loves not you but the one who preceded you.
You are the replacement.
The object of convalescing for him.

The frayed ends of my sanity.

The path my love follows fills a desolate heart with unrelenting guilt and moral decay, yet not regret.
Scenes replay in my mind like a marionette's lugubrious spectacle. I'm wholly consumed by the enslaving out pour of emotion that my lungs gasp for a zephyr of your scent.
My conscience is be-gnawed by shame and malfeasance, afflicted with such griefs that cause physical agony.

Heartrendingly, I deliberate the ingestion of arsenic to burn my veins clean and rid this impurity. Oh Ophelia. I've purloined Romeo from his beloved Juliet... and yet I look back on the day as if it was an unmistakably libidinous quandary....

How could he want me, entangled with mental and physical punctures, when such a queen is sitting gracefully on her sumptuous and ethereal throne? I tear at the merciless and perpetual echoes that consume my evanescent soul... my flaws mark your absence and are left for him to heal with the affection you never provided.

A hopeless whisper.

Showing no mercy, my mercurial mind called out hardheartedly for your lingering presence.
In the dark, my hopeless wish cannot be granted without your resonating light.
And so, as the preceding nights, I lay in the cold, rising damp stroking the melanoid stone enclosing your once radiant vigour.

She sought death on a king-sized bed

Darling, your looks can kill, but you could never be an assassin.
You're infatuating, but you could never be a narcotic.
Your smile entices many, but could never be the cause of happiness.
Your delicate stature is complimented, but could never be loved for what lays beneath.
Your optimistic spirit is admired, but cannot last forever.
And so, with one last insufflation of despondency, you lift your jaded blade in the hopes of finally satiating the imperfections shrilling for attention.

embittered

I can't tell you how cold the feeling of judgement is, friend,
the abysmal depths of Arctic glaciers could never compare.
I feel like there's an voracious void consuming my heart and soul,
engulfing in their entirety all honorable, pure things left inside me.
The JUDGEMENT of someone I opened up to and trusted is most hurtful of all,
You said you wouldn't dare to lambaste me, but in the end you left with arid, irreparable scars marking your presence.

Her poignant submission

My heart lies just beyond the horizon of her seemingly complaisant silhouette,
I follow the sweet, rhythmic oscillations in her neck
In out with every move.. every glance.. and every breath..
Her jaw is the quintessential medium through which her clamorous heart touches her delicately mercurial thoughts,
I see her, crane her neck, expose her heart-lines
The very thing keeping her alive, she bestows in me
She gives her raw, undying mind to my insatiable appetite.

She wavers for a moment, then succumbs to the enticing fervency of my lips.

Ungirthed angst

I was the kind of girl
That smiled a lot
But never said
Much,
Now I don't smile
And every word
From my mouth
Is a poisonous, little
Lie.

Each scar,
Slightly visible,
Told the story
Of how you were not there,
Of how you left my heart,
Left my soul,
To plunder through the dark abyss
Of mislead affection.

A song was sung
For every day that you
Grew further and further away,
Your distance pulling at my heart
Strings still connected,
You did deserve better,
But selfish ways never
Abandon their host,
As you did.

Antony

While Ophelia stubbornly suffered in her loyal yet pain-heavy silence, he, Antony, the previous cursed lover of Cleopatra, was too far gone in his own past tragedies to care. She was a past time for him. She would do anything for him and he knew that, yet he still exploited her for his own narcissistic entertainment.
Sometimes, he would prove her impression of him false, but many a times he had proved it all too accurate. Could this harlot be trusted with the heart of the broken and powerless? Certainly not. So how could she persist like this when she knew he was no good for her...

She tried reaching out to him. She tried to bring out the innocence she most despondently tried to connect with, but of course the pernicious thorn kept blocking her out.
Ophelia tried and tried but if he kept pushing her away she would no longer try and he would drift away like an ethereal cloud in a water-lillied sky. He didn't need her. He'd never need her. But she needed him, desperately. Her hope lay in this one Angel of Darkness' hands and he would  undoubtedly crush it. Her eternal radiance of  innocence and naivete would be extinguished and her hope in humanity's kindness extirpated.

Crack all my bones

You will find me ill with feeling

and crippled by a pathetic hope.

Small wisdoms are small victories

I am doing my best, but I am failing

at holding my tongue,

my breath,

my self,

away from you and your treacherous lyrics,

apart from your febrile mysteries

I am weak; submissive nature beleaguers me

I am sick; I warn you not to treat me

For you are the disease that plagues me;

withers me with love in your pyretic wake

I tremble in dread torment and longing

as I feel each step that encroaches

…closer to me.

Tread lightly, lover, for it is you who crushes parallels.

Crux Essentia

I will soothe your pain if you return the favour,
I've got nothing for you to gain, but charity the gain itself ,
You are better than I could ever hope to be,
Is it your charming nature or impure essentia that has my web labyrinthine,
This life isn't enjoyable when you're not around but morose when you are,
Your presence haunts my actions and introspection and
Proficiently taints my love with acrimonious disdain.

An existential void

I am worthless.

The pain of staying here everyday and battling myself is too great for the sadness that fills everyday of my life. I don't believe people when they say you shouldn't change your identity for those that don't even matter... but it's the opinion of those who don't matter that sticks deep. They expect everyone to be perfect and to look perfect and to dress perfectly. But I can never be perfect, no matter how much I push and pull, starve and eat; I can never achieve this goal that society has set before me.

Who am I to get attention. I am not appealing.. I am practically dead inside and I don't blame anyone for hating me. I hate me too...

How to trust a harlot

Thou true beguiling nature has cast a dark umbra over my uncertain judgement;
To love or not to love;
To trust or not to trust;
To know or not to know;
To be or not to be;
Thou hath given me reason to doubt your true intentions before;
Am I to be played as a fool yet again? Or should I believe that you actually might feel something for me?
Will thou glance at me when I'm not looking, and put aside all harlot duties to respect my presence;
I hardly think so;
I hysterically ridicule myself because I know I'm not good enough for the likes of thou and those deviant fiends you call your friends;
Or am I too good? They've all said that I was far out of your depths, but I hardly thought so...
Should I bring myself to trust you, harlot?

Hell is decorous of thou

Oh what a pernicious thorn in the side of my delicate rose embedded;
What snide, narcissistic devil hath burdened me with such disgrace and mortification;
To not even utter a word of salutation or care represents thou true nature;
A harlot, a hustler, a fallen angel;
In mine eyes thou can do no wrong but to wrong me thus;
A glance of recognition, of knowing eyes, would satisfy my numbing breath;
But thou ne'er grant me such advantage;
To look down on a commoner from your opulent, mountain-high throne;
Well, I bid you, good king, bereave me here and spare me the pain of your ignorance and discomposure;
Mine is an existence dedicated not to you nor your derisive consorts who are yet to show me kindness;
I am blameworthy, and only I;
The knowledge of your notoriety left me as you grabbed me closer and held an embrace so sweet that I've dreamt of it hereafter in such scintillating manner;
Your kind face doth haunt my sleep as I think of your foul treatment, how could you regret something you desired so?
For shame, my love, hie thee to hell, a place where you belong.