Tag: fiction

Leave No Trace

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Photo by Alim Dağ

What if the forests that I called my own when I was sixteen

Were really playing the long game, coming after my spleen?

I felt like every place I had loved had betrayed my dreams,

So, I packed my bags and left my home when I was eighteen.

What if the voices that I chase through snake-filled meadows

Are leading me towards the ledge and days full of night terrors?

Each story I sell for a dime comes back to read my prose,

But I do not have the strength to stay out of these shadows.

What if the street that I live on takes on my name and spite

And ruins my reputation like I once ruined my own might?

I can see my own footsteps leaving marks, rosy and bright,

And I am not sure if I should erase them or follow the light.

-Jackie

Time Tries To Befriend Me

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Photo by Vladimir Konoplev

I stare at the calendar, knowing that the day is near.

The sadness on the inside will outweigh the fear,

And the coat of yellow paint I put on my exterior

Will succumb to a darkness far superior.

I tick with the clock, counting down only zeros.

The cracks in my skin do not make me a hero.

I worry that the sadness inside will bleed through

And paint your roaring suffering pale and untrue.

But time tries to befriend me, and I just let it.

We all pay off our dues in scars or in debit.

My worst mistakes precede me like an omen

Until all of my bad days get interwoven.

-Jackie

Between Sips

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Photo by Ahmose Athena

I think of you between the early morning coffee sips

As I watch the time slipping between us like dirty silk.

I ask for forgiveness, so your shoulders shoo the chips.

Maybe it is too late to mourn all the spilled milk.

The ghouls I left behind me in the streets of my town,

They still clown around and peek through dusty windows.

I hear them cursing the ground I walk while they drown,

Saying women like me only go where the wind blows.

Still, each sentence you say holds me down like an anchor.

Rose colored things wash me out, but you never do.

I wish on you like a star with my selfishness and anger,

And I hope that you see me among all of the blue.

My sanity escapes me when you pull away once more,

But each time I know you will come back tomorrow.

I have never chased the loneliness of being adored,

Yet, even your sharpest words drown out all my sorrow.

-Jackie

They Feed On My Stories

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Photo by Alexey Demidov

I see them holding my fingers,

But I cannot feel their warm touch on my skin.

The numbness flows through me like a river,

Pushing me down like a pin.

I know I must go on without feeling.

This is the path I must follow ‘til the end.

Severed heads float through the air screaming,

But there is no time to bend.

I rush towards the neon door,

Searching for a single sign that could stop me.

The eerie emptiness speeds up time,

And every new exit is just a copy.

I trip on the wires and cables,

Falling down the hole that they’ve dug so neatly,

And they rip my stories from my shaking hands.

I really hope death beats me.

-Jackie

Sinking Feeling

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Photo by Ethem Kartal

There’s plenty of sadness lingering in the careless tears you left in me.

My head spins around like a disco ball, deflecting the grey trepidation.

Must all my stories end in loss and someone innocent leaving?

You know I let you quit as you please, so what’s with the hesitation?

I swear that no sea can compete with the sinking feeling you give me,

But the highs smell like early spring rain and my will succumbs to you.

Only I can save myself from this silver trap I built for the two of us.

Still, I’m hoping that you won’t run when you see that I’m not waterproof.

Don’t tell me you’re sorry about the way you cut me into pieces,

And I won’t tell them the promises that you made just to get high.

The feeling inside will dissolve like fog if I dare to breathe in the fumes,

But I’m not sure if I want to see the truth when I’m covered in your lies.

-Jackie

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