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

Two For The Show

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I’ve never loved a good man, that much I know,

I’ve always stood on grassless graves for the show.

Through groves and meadows, I’ve searched for sympathy,

But lately my callused feet are killing me.

And I get trapped in these daydreams of your smile,

Sweeter than candy, more bitter than my bile.

I swear you know it too, we’re cursed to collide,

We’re cursed to implode until there’s nowhere to hide.

I’ve never loved a good man, that much I know,

But you counted down, you said “two for the show”,

And the armor I carried fell on the rocks and smashed.

Right then I knew – this feeling will never pass.

-Jackie

The Sharpest Voices

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The darkness is laughing in my face today.

They swore it could not win,

They promised I had it in me to stay,

But the water is already up to my chin.

I am drowning in past, drowning in despair,

And my legs are giving up on me.

Dirty hands are pulling in my onyx hair.

I want to fight but cannot find the energy.

Still, the darkness is not what I fear,

It is the look that people give me lately.

It seems like everyone who holds me dear

Now has begun to secretly hate me.

I am sinking to the bottom all alone,

And my heart is the anchor dragging me down.

Bright colors have turned into muted tones

And the sharpest voices are growing too loud.

-Jackie

The Lost Child

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I have walked in your footsteps for long enough to know what happens next,

I have followed you down the darkest paths, I have seen you failing life’s tests.

With your broad back turned to me, you do not even notice my frozen breaths,

You keep moving on quickly while I observe and place my unlucky bets.

I have watched you break promises like deadly storms break the driest branches.

I hear they fear you, so I guess I am lucky to have never faced your avalanches.

They call me the lost child, they even wonder if I have taken after you,

And my brazen silence frightens them more than the latest twisted truth.

I have lingered over you like cheap perfume for at least a few decades now,

I have been the only face you truly dread to notice in the greyest crowd.

But with your back still turned towards me, you have built a sense of false safety.

You think I am disappearing like a mirage,

Yet somehow my ghost feels closer to you lately.

-Jackie

The Temptation

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The forbidden fruit sharpens its crooked teeth

And scrunches up its face as it looks at me.

I feel the saliva drowning my tongue,

I sense the hot air filling up my lungs…

But I must look away, even if I perish,

Must build myself a brand-new parish.

The believers will find it by early dawn

And set ablaze the freshly mowed lawn.

They will call me an unimaginable traitor,

Then pray and thank the old gods later.

But the forbidden fruit leaks pure honey,

It stares at me like I owe it money.

No, I cannot fall for this temptation,

Cannot grant those thoughts an invitation.

Yet, my heart feels heavier every minute,

It begs me to just end it, just kill it.

I know I can do it, but not today.

I bite the fruit like the holiest prey.

-Jackie

The Choice

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The voice in my head tells me a dozen dramatic stories about famous downfalls,

And I feel like I am standing on the edge as I am not picking up your calls.

The papers are going to say that I risked it all just to gain some independence,

And sharp tongues are going to ironize about my failed ascendance.

No, I do not have it in my heart to listen as they protect my abuser.

My shoulders have been too strong for years, I will not accept their amusement.

Still, every time he calls a piece of my mind feels like I am making it complicated,

A piece of my consciousness tells me that all my stories were fabricated.

Every second I wait, the edge comes closer, and the dark abyss becomes bigger,

And even though I know that I am saving myself, I still feel like a sinner.

I even consider just falling down and letting them walk over my reputation.

They would eat it up like the sweetest dessert, laughing at my humiliation.

The phone keeps ringing, and my skull keeps fighting the urge to continue the loop,

And my every cell remembers how you stole my joy, how you stole my youth.

The voice in my head tells me a hundred stories about people who never made it out…

I lie in my bed and stare at the ceiling until peace dissolves the dark clouds.

-Jackie

The Craving

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I look at you and it feels like I am watching a silver screen,

Almost like a smooth cutout from a magazine,

Just a perfectly shot scene.

I lower my lashes,

I want to make you my lover,

But we both know the price of these affairs,

And how they cannot be hidden between the covers.

So, I guess we must fight fair.

My god, the way you laugh has a hold on me,

I struggle to breathe

Because it feels much better than flying in a dream.

And I wander the streets, trying to change my mind,

The weather is unkind, but I let it scold me,

I let it erase all the secrets that you told me.

But the craving, it does not really go away.

The more I kill it, the more it makes me its prey,

And I pray,

I beg to those phony gods to land me a spine,

To give me the strength to never cross the line.

Yet, you feel like you are mine,

And I cannot hide the truth –

I need you, and I have always needed you,

You are my home, you are my youth.

-Jackie

The Chase

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My fingers get weak from constantly reaching for the holy grail.

It has been too long, and my skin has grown bumpy and pale,

And my nails are peeling off whenever the north winds hit me.

I once promised to chase the green light until I die,

But now I am ready to leave this city.

The ones who care simply tell me to pack up and run away,

They refuse to see me chasing new highs every other day.

The height is starting to scare me too, I cannot even lie,

But the pulsating light calms me every evening,

Begging me to give it another try.

My eyes are slowly losing their perspective on the past.

This voice in my head says that only the future will last.

Sometimes I believe it, but sometimes I squeeze my skull

Until all the grand thoughts turn into mush,

Until all the sharp edges become dull.

The ones who know me well tell me to look in the mirror,

They beg me to stop, they command me to see it clearer.

But the death wish I carry in my backpack excites me,

It wraps around my torso like a poisonous snake,

Then chokes me out in my sleep.

-Jackie

A Note From You Devil

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I live in a tale where leaves fall without the autumn air touching them,

I live in a tale where the creatures living under your bed are your best friends.

Great loneliness sneaks up on me every morning, but I hold onto my ropes

And choke out that feeling whenever the silence makes me lose all hope.

I live right by the lake that hides all the corpses of grand unrequited loves,

I live in an endless fog, and the blurriness always fits me like a glove.

Strangers wander in my house once a month, but I hold onto my matches,

And I give them free candles and gasoline until the fire catches.

I live under every crooked surface, I live between some dying trees,

I live in wonder, walking the roads where I once stood on my knees.

There are waves beating shorelines nearby, there are rivers changing flow,

Yet, I always get lost in the sound and run out of smooth stones to throw.

I live on the edge of a narrative that is more fragile than rice paper,

I live between unread lines and unnoticed glances shared by neighbors.

Sometimes I even live on the tip of your tongue as you grit your teeth,

And I dance on your shoulder with my horns on display,

Ready to take you underneath.

-Jackie