Category: Jackie’s diaries

Fix A Fool

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Photo by Ethem Kartal

Some weeks breathing feels like hell in the making,

And you’re watching me fall again so there’s no faking it.

Three days ago, I carried your sentences like jewels,

But sometimes two days apart can fix a fool.

I look back and I wonder where I found the strength.

You know I don’t ever try to make amends.

Still, each time I crawled back to you in the dark,

Hoping you’d clap and cheer when I revived the spark.

You just sneered at me from your velvet tower

While I punched the cold walls in my boiling shower.

Maybe I’m just a jester, maybe this is a circus.

Maybe you’re right – my love can’t even scratch the surface.

Yet, you tend to forget that I don’t need you in my heaven.

If you want me to disintegrate, just count to seven.

Three days ago, I bent in your arms like a tool,

But sometimes two days apart can fix a fool.

-Jackie

Last Chapter

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Photo by Atahan Demir

I cross out the ending,

I make my amends.

Don’t call me a lover

And don’t call me a friend.

If the walls could talk,

They would drown me in whispers.

My legs are bruised,

Covered in blisters.

I spill the dark ink,

I override the feeling.

Don’t think about staying,

Don’t think about kneeling.

If the sky could heal,

It would rain flames on you.

Let’s end this story,

Let’s paint the light blue.

-Jackie

Stuck

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Photo by Zeeshaan Shabbir

My own inability to leave you drains me,

And I suffocate under each word that you swallow.

The doorknob locks eyes with me, chuckling softly,

Knowing that I am headed towards the gallows.

How do I walk away without being the killer?

Your victimhood waves above our house like a flag,

But your little cruelties crave some new blood,

And I am your trophy, your favorite price tag.

The idea of the old me slips my mind these days.

You must feel proud seeing these walls falling.

I stand still as my feet get covered in vines,

Hoping they all see that this love is not my calling.

Still, I stay in the corner like some apparition,

And my lungs are heavier than my pale lids.

The doorknob locks eyes with me, crying gently,

As you once again treat me like a stubborn kid.

-Jackie

A Thousand Little Fantasies

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Photo by Yura Forrat

In my city the stories keep writing themselves

While my dearest people change like the seasons.

The marigold leaves intrigue my senses,

And the faces I meet accuse me of treason.

The witch trials commence, but I’m a spectator.

I know that they will not relight that flame.

A thousand little fantasies blur my vision,

And I wish I could trap them all in a frame.

No, these streets will not let me capture the magic.

They glare at me as I write down these lines.

My city snaps necks of romantics and poets.

I avert my gaze and wonder why I’m alive.

The sun sets as it lets the moon out of its cage,

And the wooden church sings its ghostly tune.

A thousand little fantasies bleed into tales,

Turning my empty vessels deep maroon.

-Jackie

Things I’ll Never Say

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Photo by Tanya Gupta

I did it on purpose.

I did it to hurt us.

I fell like a feather,

Landed in your flames.

You took it slow,

You ran from the show.

You tripped over the rope

And broke all your shame.

I pulled you too close.

I starved your rose

And acted like an angel

As you hissed like a snake.

You bought my apology.

You signed your eulogy.

I would say “sorry”,

But it is getting late.

I did it on purpose.

I did it to hurt us.

I loved and I lost,

And I never found peace.

You thought I changed.

You gave me your change,

But I bit your fingers

To kill you like a disease.

-Jackie

Lighthouse In Flames

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Photo by Lucas Pezeta

Does the mirror on the ceiling reflect my own claws?

Are my eyes once again playing cruel tricks on me?

I am building a pile in the corner from knives and saws,

Hoping somebody stops me and calls it misandry.

But there is no one around to choke out my roaring flame.

It illuminates photos and memories until they burn.

I was a lighthouse for people who deserved only pain,

And I learned my lessons, so I guess now it is their turn.

Does the early morning fog resemble a sinner’s path?

Is my rage once again becoming the hero of my story?

Those who fooled me always mocked my rightful wrath,

Now they faint and call my tactics uncouth and gory.

They cannot kill me now or slay the god that they gave me.

It must hurt to see how I have chewed through their ropes.

I wonder if they truly thought that they could tame me,

I wonder if my punishment will wipe out that hope.

-Jackie

Unkillable

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Photo by Maria Eduarda Loura Magalhães

Honey, don’t cut the corners of my heartache just yet.

The white church has not even rung its bells this evening.

Don’t burn the wooden house, don’t bury the place we met.

All hope is not gone, I can still hear it breathing.

Honey, don’t take the anger out on my yellow roses.

The raven on the chimney is counting down your sins.

Don’t pinch your wounded ego, don’t split open their noses.

The city is still dreaming, I can feel it on my skin.

Honey, don’t pause for a second as you leave my room.

The wind licks my skylight, hoping to freeze your bones alive.

Don’t pray for the innocent, don’t count on my doom.

These city streets will make sure that I will survive.

-Jackie

Sleep Talking

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Photo by Alycia Fung

I wish I could have a dream vibrant enough that it numbs me,

But these city streets whisper my name, and I can’t sleep.

From the old school by my building to the grand sky above me,

The ghosts of these boulevards are bleeding out in my sheets.

People tell me I scream through my dreams from time to time,

And I put on a stoic face and tell them not to worry.

The falsely accused and the guilty want to steal what’s mine

While the humming churches spit out fog until I turn blurry.

Dark fantasies buzz around my head like a cloud of bees.

With each coming sunset their wings get sharper and sharper.

I keep begging the city for silence on my bruised knees,

But the grey man by the cemetery tells me to put on my armor.

I wish I could have a moment of freshly pressed loneliness.

I would stick out my tongue and let it fill my head with quiet.

Yet, the more I wish, the more these loud streets confess.

It is like they are sleep talking their way into a riot.

-Jackie

Perceptions

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Photo by Mariana Montrazi

Perceive me, receive me, deceive me.

I hate that you people can see me.

You love the new hair,

You love the jeans.

Are you being mean?

Why should I thank my genes?

Adore me, implore me, ignore me.

I hate that you people don’t bore me.

You ask for tips,

You shoot your blank stares.

Would you even care if I kissed you as a dare?

Undress me, caress me, repress me.

I hate that you all want to bless me.

You lower your gaze,

Then shoot a dozen arrows.

Shoot me down like a sparrow,

Sell my bone marrow.

-Jackie

Save The Innocent

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Photo by Alyona Stafeeva

When each corner of your comfort gets stripped of peace

And you are left with nothing but anxiety dreams,

Where do you look for a new home?

This land that I stand on feels like a sinking ship,

And I thought I had my city to hold with my fingertips,

But they are burning it down again.

Each coming day is a steppingstone that I must beat,

Yet somehow it feels like I am heading towards defeat.

The road to hell is just a ladder.

When the time comes, will the flames really spare me?

Will they save the innocent and kill the scary?

Please do not tell me the answer.

I still have my streets with their dirty parks and bridges,

And neighborhoods that do not crave the riches,

So maybe I have time.

As the street by the graveyard protects me from the reality,

I let the moonlight wash away my mortality.

Does anyone crave comfort anyway?

-Jackie