Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

The Mad Queen

My eyes are pleading,

I am kneeling,

and then writhing,


like Lady Macbeth,

captivated by your cruelty.

I am crazy,

with a heart so white,

black silk,

layered with lace,

on our bed,

trying to ask,

but predictably preoccupied,

with how much I fear power,

for its own sake,

or otherwise.

I am holding the covers,

against where you belong,

my eyes are wide,


I hide my heart,

so white but so willing,


blood all over my body,

granting guilt safe passage to my soul,

madness and death are looming above me,

but I don’t care,

because at last,

you are overcome,

by a mad Queen’s whispers and whimpers,

berating blankets,

that have touched what was always yours.


timeless touches,

bring me closer to madness,

closer to crazed closure.

I am a sweet, satanic witch,

beckoning your body,

my dearest love,

my hand,

my tongue,

looks like the innocent flower,

but you know better,

my dearest love.

You know better.

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