I hide away in the buzz between your lips,
Touching your fingertips,
Amending all the rips.
You hold my hair back while I burn out bright
But only during the night
While lost in this blight.
The oxygen in my veins sings for you, too,
Perhaps I’m your Waterloo,
Yet – I feel your blues.
I hurt for every bullet you take in self-defense.
One day we’ll make amends,
And meet where the sadness ends.
-JW
I pave the pale moonlight with my lightest shoes,
Bruises on my neck as if you needed more proof
That where I come from is a land of temptation
But it has nothing to do with my destination.
The chimneys cry charcoal mascara tears,
Smeared across their cheeks by well-meaning peers.
The dusty air holds the start of another story
I’ll make up while these empty roads bore me.
And the dark parts of my mind sting like darts,
Hard to point them away from the wounded parts.
My joints tell me to look back once more
But I know I’ll get enchanted by all the gore.
I just pave the night, I keep braving the night
As sister moon mirrors rays so I stay in light.
Once the sun sweats over the evergreen trees,
The lures behind my back wail like banshees.
-JW
Sometimes I feel like screaming is not enough,
Their backs turned against us,
Their words vile and rough.
And my heart breaks, it breaks time and again
About their ignorance
Drowned in stale champagne.
I could recollect all the stories one more time
If it meant anything more
Than the sound of chimes.
But the wind is passing through the town today
And I must follow the road
To chase what I crave.
To those staying back, watching me pack up –
Remember my face
When the times got rough.
I burned my feet for them and never gave in.
So call my absence a save,
Don’t call it a sin.
Because no one’s gonna pull me out of the fire,
I have to do it on my own,
Have to walk the spire.
Even if you think it’s not what you’d desire,
The faith will tie us together again
Just like haywire.
-JW
Wish I could cut you off like my own tangled hair,
Wash you out of my blood with one bright flare.
But even the color yellow reminds me of you
As I search the streets for someone new.
My lucky star has long given up on my heart.
You could burst it open with one well-aimed dart.
And I still think your touch was that much different –
Yet all it did was make me weaker and sicker.
I’m not a sticker that would hold as you please,
You owe it to me – let my pride die in peace.
But your head has long branded me as worthless
So I pray to the gods
That I never worshiped.
-JW
The little rainclouds are growing into a thunderstorm.
Right under the place we last fell apart
The ground is burning, nice and warm.
No one knows the lengths I’d go to dissolve you again.
No one knows the shame I carry around
In the ink of my pen.
But I’d rebuild silver cities if it meant I could be free.
I’d paint the sky navy blue if it meant
That I could finally sleep.
And my arms would lift mountains just to clear the dust
Which you brought into my view with pain,
Masked as a fiery lust.
Yet – I know well that your footprints cannot be erased.
No matter how hard I swing,
They keep showing up in a new place.
This shame might linger for too many eternities to count.
And even my spite might not be enough
To beat the next goddamn round.
-JW
And once again I pick on myself until I bleed,
Rashes behind my ears let the demons feed.
The red trickling down my back is too warm.
I’m done voiding myself to save others from harm.
Though the heart drums beat dangerously loud
I manage to raise my voice over these crowds.
They turn their heads to catch a brief glimpse
Of this pulled apart soul, covered in safety pins.
For a moment they listen as I raise my hands,
They see my anger trickling into the sand.
With roaring applause their faces turn to dust,
I bow to myself in the mirror, covered in rust.
And maybe you weren’t right when you said
“These ghosts will only cheer over your deathbed.”
-JW
One day the sun will shine for me and not for you.
You’ll beg it to stop like I once begged you
Too many moons ago.
But, honey, we’re on top
And you’re no longer latched onto me.
You’re free fall will be just a flop,
But you’ll still mix crudeness with honesty.
Go ahead and drag me on their sharp, grinding teeth.
Laugh in your palms quietly
As you’re struggling to breathe.
Because it was always you, dear,
Headed for the mighty fall.
Hide your shaky hands as it nears,
Don’t fear their anger, just stand tall.
I might’ve put you in the sun one too many times.
Now that we know there’s no place for you,
I won’t hide away the crimes.
And one morning the light will come for me, not for you.
Today feels like the second to last chapter
Of you ever mouthing
“I’ve got power over you.”
-JW
The glass door to your garden is covered in mist.
I try to break through but I cut my soft fists.
The roses and daffodils breathe in synchrony
While the hives in my mind calmingly sing to me.
Yes, you might even blame my tunnel vision
But I watered your flowers despite the incisions.
The dread in my face screams it is far too late
To talk me out of freezing by your glass gate.
One day they will wonder – why did she stay
Crushed under the pages she used to tear away.
Yet – they will never hear how your garden died
That night we uncovered all the parasites.
There goes another decade my remains rot away
Right by the blossoms turning sickly grey.
The glass door to your garden is covered in mist,
It is nothing but a mirror for those who you miss.
-JW
Choosing not to dissolve completely was easier than deciding to stay,
It took five gallons of pure revenge to get me out of my own way.
In those slow moments before I touched the trigger, I saw your face
And I knew in an instant that racing my own demons
Is not really a chase.
Choosing not to let myself die was much simpler than deciding to live.
I see you’ve worked on your alibis, they’re dark like some oil spills.
Each moment of pain reminds me of you with the force of a bitter pill
So I pack up my pride just to let you speak about things
That don’t really kill.
-JW
Happiness earned through freedom is not happiness at all.
They might meet you at your lowest,
Might meet you at the downfall,
But they will watch you pass on the downward spiral
As you fall into the plain grave
Engraved with a word “liar”.
Some will cheer when your hair gets dirty with the moss,
With the leaking rain waters…
They will miss you the most –
At least in the eyes of another passer-by writing a novel.
And those who turned you inside out
Will pass your mother the shovel.
-JW
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 