These Mirrors Are Fleeting

Photo by Darya Sannikova

My pseudonyms, they ravish me,

They seize my last lifeline.

These mirrors are fleeting fantasies,

But hate lasts for a lifetime.

Pain treats me like its puppet,

It slams me awake,

And if I ever dared to cut it,

It would grant me a stake.

No, I do not fear the doom,

I only fear exposure.

My love is an empty room,

It seeks out rugged closure.

But what if words mattered?

Were mine even true?

My past is pale and battered,

And tomorrow tastes blue.

-Jackie

My Pleased Face

Photo by Nathalia Lin

Just pass me that medal for pretending I don’t see them

As their lurking eyes touch me with the softness of a heathen.

“Choice” is the one word I let myself forget each morning,

And it begs for a funeral, but their eyes despise mourning.

Just write me the red checks, pay me out in solid sorrow.

My pleased face makes my living, but it is only borrowed.

They see me as a person, but they know me as a trap,

And each time I leave, they find white roses in their laps.

-Jackie

Face Me

Photo by Cesar Alcantar

It might be time for you to learn that I am your last nightmare,

Not just a spook with some designer perfume and black lipstick.

You summoned me with salt like my terror was a quick dare,

But I strike them like lightning – one blink, and you’ll miss it.

It might be time for you to pick up that old chef’s knife.

My head will float above your bed each night until you face me.

You might get a chance at fighting god on your borrowed time,

But my judgment will hide in each shadow that feels hazy.

-Jackie

Desperate Moments

Photo by Eric Torres

She walked out on you before you even noticed,

And all hope bled out before you clipped its wings.

Your old hometown friends called her The Poetess,

And you laughed along as they called it a fling.

Desperate moments ask for desperate measures,

But your apologies get stuck in your throat.

You even wonder if she feels the same pressure,

If her future feels like a sinking lifeboat.

She walked out the day you needed her most,

And their tongues painted her as the real villain.

Between red velvet kisses and champagne toasts,

She saw right through your jejune feelings.

Desperate moments ask for desperate escapes,

And she had to flee the scene before the crash.

One day she will peel her lips from the tape

As her words will leave you with a deep gash.

-Jackie

My Dust

Photo by Victor L.

What’s the use of your wise reflections

If you color me with invisible paint?

These mirrors twist me in cruel angles

While you observe me like a saint.

Your sage green eyes stay anchored.

They chew right through my pale skin.

Was there really me before you?

Did you make me into a scarlet sin?

I don’t know if my breath matters,

And you choose to dodge the question.

Your words flow like great rivers,

But I’m not one of your obsessions.

So, why do you call me back?

My outlines are almost transparent.

One day I’ll fade with the winds,

And my dust will be your death warrant.

-Jackie

Back To Normal

Photo by Essow

I look for stars in the sky above your building,

But the planes have occupied the velvet night.

Cold thoughts have replaced all of my feelings,

And I might get to breathe if I tame my might.

Blank stares shoot back at me like red lasers,

And I wish someone told me to run for cover.

Their rules and restrictions cut like razors,

But at this point pain is just one of my lovers.

I do not ask why the trees keep losing color.

The breaths I take remain small and measured.

Every song they play turns my path duller.

Soon I will forget all about these pleasures.

-Jackie

Twist The Blade

Photo by Max Ravier

While some pray each night for a shot at forgetting me,

You wave your long flag of moral purity.

While they gift their love in these silver screen boxes,

You speak in half-truths and paradoxes.

But you have all the time in the world to erase me,

To cover my thorns in dying daisies.

You can be the first one to call my words shallow

While truth is a pill you cannot swallow.

Still, I broke the spell that kept us civil.

Soon enough the green leaves shriveled.

While you were patting yourself on the shoulder,

The home we built, it artfully smoldered.

You found better hobbies on every street corner

As I was crossing the northern border.

Now you are worlds away busy forgetting me,

And nothingness tastes a lot like jealousy.

Strangers fill my time, thinking I feel great.

I just want you to twist the blade.

-Jackie

Whispers

Photo by Jay-r Alvarez

The defeated road below my feet echoes these whispers.

They circle me like vultures as their bloody feathers glisten.

My palms are pressed against my ears, but there is no use.

In a moment or two, they will take my pride and shoes.

And I know exactly what they want to steal from my skull.

They notice how my stormy eyes have lost their stale lull.

But their guesses all lead back to gossip columns and lies.

I could not change their minds no matter how hard I tried.

These whispers snake around me with their aching hunger,

Trying to confuse me into thinking I should be a hunter.

They seek stories of paramours, they want some naïve lust.

But I am not a kid, and there is only rage below the dust.

-Jackie

In This House

Photo by Ron Lach

In my house of mirrors, time slows when I talk,

And the writing on the walls drips boiling chalk.

Ancient terrors sneak out of every reflection.

Let their teeth consume you section by section.

In this house of dim lighting, nobody ever speaks.

We scream as blue hours form blurry weeks.

The beasts we nurture inside our own chests

Come out to play with the venomous pests.

In our house of sharp edges, silence prevails.

We erase the news and blow up the mail.

Candlelit rooms keep their hexes and ghouls,

And you must let them turn you into a fool.

-Jackie

A Life Of Pleasure

Photo by Hasan Muneer

Tired taxis shoot down the constantly sleepy city streets,

They take my fading carcass home as it bends in defeat.

The passersby stare, but no one helps me out with the keys.

I wish somebody noticed that these days I barely breathe.

My life of pleasure bleeds through my fluttering eyelids,

And I know that good people must suffer in glossy silence.

But would it be so wrong to drown all of the autopilots?

These joyless smiles pass by my eyes like floating islands.

I just want a little taste of what the other side holds.

It must feel more than delightful to always fit the mold.

My eccentric existence is rosy, but it is covered in mold,

And my mind is a sour substance, red and uncontrolled.

-Jackie