Posted in Blog, Personal

The Beginning Of The End

I haven’t slept.

I spent the night,

at the mercy of memories,

how my miserable mind contorts them.

I am comforted,

by the old,

“No news is good news”.

Carrying my anxiety,

to my altar,

empowered but exhausted,

I kneel before the rising sun,

as if you are at its core,

my tears are on full display,

sacrificing,

offering,

pleading.

There are some moments,

where I’m so sure,

where I’m going,

until I am undone,

unwelcome by my own mind.

It has been six days,

since the last time I started counting,

spades are singular,

by the front door.

Am I digging?

Am I planting?

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Writing

I Am a Goddess

I am a goddess.
I wonder what it will feel like to live.
I hear the sound of the clouds, impossible, inspirational.
I see a new day.
I want what I deserve.
I am a goddess.

 

 

I pretend I am a human.
I feel accomplished in my performance.
I touch the darkest part of my soul, and all the secrets it has silenced.
I worry that I’ll never live forever.
I cry about my crimes, and all the ways I’ve marked myself.
I am a goddess.

 

 

I understand that life goes on.
I say that I decide when I do.
I dream about my diary entries.
I try to write myself better.
I hope my dreams come true.
I am a goddess.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

The Girl Who Fell In Love With Death

It has been many months,
since I saw you last.
Eighteen,
to be exact,
since our secret trysts stopped,
since I sent you away,
telling you,
it was the last time.
It was always the last time.
Every time,
I don’t expect to see you again,
but you follow me,
like a phantom,
finding me,
alone at night,
aching for an ending.

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I think,
sometimes,
that I’ll forget you,
but you carved your mark,
on each of my bones,
scratching into my skin,
our everlasting union.
You persuade me,
that we’re good together,
gripping me in your grasp,
isolated and influenced,
frightened to forget you,
in case you were meant for me,
but frightened of the hold you have on me.

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You are not here,
but I repeat my words.
That was the last time.
That was the last time.
I cast a spell,
casting you out,
keeping myself alive,
just long enough to say,
that I love leaving you behind.
That was the last time.
I have to hope,
that it was the last time.
I have to love myself,
more than I love you,
so,
it must be the last time.

Posted in Blog, Creative Writing, Personal, Writing

A Good Person

Celestial power seeps through my skin,

as I sleep,

I am deep in a dream,

running from waking hours,

wondering what else I can do,

to be free.

I used to wonder,

if I was a good person,

being who I needed to be,

so I could keep myself alive,

watching my soul surrender to shadows,

accepting that life is a choice,

between survival,

and self satisfaction.