Month: Jan 2022

Grave Digger

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All the scars I left on your villainous skin ache when you think of me,

And your bones, they always hurt like a broken apology,

Just like the one you never gave me,

Just like the one I never returned

Right after I said I’m done surviving your fatal burns.

Yes, you treated yourself like a victim when I was fighting for my life.

No, it was never my threats, nor it was ever my sharpened knives.

The lights were on, everyone saw it,

But it wasn’t the first grave you’ve dug,

And just that easily yet another victim was swept under the rug.

But I managed to slip through your greasy fingers like running water,

I ran to a far land where no one called me a sister or a daughter.

You tried to track down my mind,

You searched all the deserts and all the mines,

Then angrily smashed every part of legacy that I could call mine.

Still, all the bruises you marked me with pulsate when you near me,

And your harsh words rule my head like it’s a tyranny.

But one day you’ll be done,

One day it’ll crash over you like a wave,

And you’ll be out of unruly women to blame, accuse or defame.

-Jackie

Answer The Question

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What do you tell them about that chilly evening?

Do you call it cursed like I do?

Do you dare to call it enchanting?

You grabbed my body like I was a fleeting feeling,

Then destroyed the ground where I was standing.

All that for laughs and dimes,

All that for nothing.

Just so you could feel my skin on yours for a couple more times.

I truly hope that memory was your cherry on a whipped cream topping,

And I hope I was the reward you wanted the most in this race.

Yet, you know what they say about mad women,

Especially if their enemies have a name and a face,

And the story of their fury has a clear beginning.

You do not believe it though,

You tell them I got lost in translation.

I will not correct you, I am running this show,

Teaching the viewers about the consequences of an innocent causation.

So, do not mind the heart palpitations that will follow,

Do not look away as the story unravels.

My heart is charred, and it is hollow,

Do not beg for mercy or seek out a fair gavel.

Instead, answer the question.

What do you tell them about that chilly evening?

Did you develop an obsession?

Do you just not care about me bleeding?

I am coming for everything you ruined for me,

And for every lie you tell,

I will multiply that one pound of flesh by three.

Was it all for nothing then or was it a spell?

Feel free to spill before your monomyth becomes a tragedy.

-Jackie

The Anger

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My anger lazily sits in my shallow chest,

It has run out of productive things to do,

It is done with wishing you all the best

As my sky is now empty and dark blue.

My anger swings its legs in the air,

And the temperature climbs below zero.

The anger has my eyes, icy and fair,

As you brand me a whore

Who sees herself as a hero.

-Jackie

Fate

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But what if I smile for just a moment too long?

What if I sweet-talk my way into your thoughts?

I think I have it in me to resist the pull, even when it is strong,

Even when you feel like sunshine to a blinded moth.

And what if my youth lingers in your eyes for decades?

What if all it takes is just one willful gaze?

There is this string in me, singing that I met you too late,

Warning me to not treat my time as a game.

So, what if I just ask you to stay around for a while?

What if I beg on my knees, what if you beg too?

I wonder if fate is taking notes with a big smile,

Wanting me to self-sabotage the love I have for you.

-Jackie

The End

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You sting like a bee,

You taste like poison on my lips,

But you tell them it is my fantasy,

It is my curved hips.

No one likes my truth,

You ensure it is erased.

It is always me, never you,

And your face remains unphased.

But I spat out the venom,

You were not looking.

I hid behind blue denim,

We were on the wrong footing.

Now I bite like a snake,

I taste like death on your tongue.

You know you cut your own brakes,

You know you killed me too young.

-Jackie

The Erased

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I let them break me in the tiniest pieces and parts

Until every last inch of me is a bleeding shard.

I let them bend me in twists and stretch me out,

Then they ask me to smile and lose the pout.

My shoulders are heavy, and my back is weak,

I cannot fall asleep, and it has been a week.

My voice seems to get all the answers wrong,

I cannot face the journey, it is way too long.

So, I just let them drain me of the holiest blood,

And I watch as they paint the whole neighborhood.

I let them erase me and all I could have been

Until they reduce my whole life to a sin.

-Jackie

The Tender Ground

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I wonder if they’ll bury me below the very same oak trees I grew up under,

I wonder if they’ll see my mischievous eyes in the shadows,

Sparkling in burnt umber,

Screaming in pain like haunted gallows.

I haven’t known a home in years, but who can blame me?

All those voices try to hush my words,

Try to soften the sharp edges and finally tame me,

Just like an animal in the cage,

But they cannot really make me.

Still, I wonder if they’ll burn me alive or just suffocate me in my sleep.

I wonder if they’ll ever see the humanity in my face

Or how when they harm me, my eyes turn deep.

I lower my lashes and beg for space,

For a moment of rest in this tender ground,

But they laugh as they bury my bones,

And my last hope twitches at the sound

Until it is finally quiet, and I am all alone.

-Jackie

The Passenger Seat

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Sometimes I just let the devil in my skull take over for a while,

I let it swallow the bile,

I let it fake the smiles

Until every last monster thinks it is in the clear –

And that is when I deliver the blade to their deepest fear,

Humming as their screams pierce the atmosphere.

Sometimes I just watch my life like an old movie,

I do not let my insecurities move me

Or keep me from my roaring fury.

The journey is often clearer from the passenger seat,

So, I never wait until my neck bleeds,

I do not wait until I ruin the plot by accepting a bitter defeat.

-Jackie

Devotion

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May my devotion to your beauty serve as a gentle reminder

That the youth fleets and hair grow grey,

And love is one wicked spellbinder,

But your grace will leave its mark on my heart like it is made of clay.

You see me without the filigree and my gilded disguise.

When I look at you, my red lips run out of questions.

There are only answers in your eyes,

Only gentle whispers forming long-lasting lessons.

And my mouth feels dry when I crave your kisses at night,

But I would rather be damned than touch you.

Let me just float on the top of this memory until I see the light,

Until I fall in love with you anew.

I swear I want it to pass, I swear I want you to stay.

There is a blade waiting to lick the skin on my bare throat,

And if I choose wrong, I will not get to live another day.

Yet, not choosing you feels like breaking an invisible blood oath.

What is worse – never getting to hold you or passing the point of no return?

Right now, the former seems like torture,

But the latter might make my body burn,

So, may my devotion be my curse, may it be my fortune.

-Jackie

The Lips Of A Furious Woman

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I know your father told you to shut up a few too many times,

And you still blame your anger issues on your younger sister.

Now you sell the souls of the people you employ for dimes.

Do you notice how every woman you meet gets blisters?

My shoulders could barely hold the weight when we met.

Your words promised me a fate covered in golden thrones,

And my rosy vision turned it all into a classic movie set,

But you locked the gate and left me there to starve alone.

At first, I told myself that you will change your roaring mind,

I negotiated with the devil until he told me to leave.

My fury was a torch, and I ran with it, scared and blind,

Until you drowned the flame, saying I cannot be believed.

Every little lie you told wrapped like a noose around my neck,

Choking my last hopes of a narrative in which I can win.

The passersby rolled their eyes at this human-shaped wreck,

Mumbling something about indecency and inherited sin.

But you took all my pages, you tore my story into headlines,

And I will not take the blame for your anger fits.

I know you heard it through the shiniest grapevines –

Another furious woman is making you a shoe that fits.

You look behind your shoulder when leaving your mansion

And your Porsche does not sparkle as bright as it used to.

You even delete your sister’s number, you feel the tension,

You blabber to your friends about all the ways I used you.

But I know your mother told you all about true respect,

That is why you cannot look at a woman without grinning.

And your spite is a mirror to itself, it grows and reflects,

It makes you think that every card you hold is winning.

I know your father told you that you know nothing.

You still blame your reputation on other flawed humans.

Who would have guessed that the last nail in your coffin

Will be your crimes on the lips of a furious woman?

-Jackie