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
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
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
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
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
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
As a cocktail of rain and leaves crash against the skylight,
This epiphany hits me in the chest and flees the room.
I have loved this city through two thousand silent twilights.
Why do I always associate your silence with doom?
The cobblestone streets and wooden houses consume me,
And they wrap me in fairytales that shall stay untold.
Why do I always try to reinvent the new me?
You have called me “enough”, painted it in rose gold.
I still remember how I chased real wonders by their tails.
Three years ago, I found my place and chose to stay.
For weeks I thought that you had cut open my sails,
But I had trapped the wrong wind and called it a day.
Now I preach love lessons like I do not cause messes,
And every corner of my neighborhood shimmers and gleams.
Your love is a blue night that sulks and confesses.
You are my resting place,
An empty corner of a dream.
-Jackie
There is this urban legend about the hill by my house.
They say that back in the day they hanged witches up there.
I walk these city streets now and try to count the differences,
But there are not that many: the same stares, the same square.
Back then people talked until these two women perished.
Well, Anna and her sister simply got the short end of the stick.
I lean over the edge of the bridge by the graveyard
And I look down at the passing trains until I feel sick.
They say someone grew jealous over Anna’s sharp wit.
The rumors spread like wildfire; she did not have a chance.
She probably told judges the truth and they erased it,
And the gallows really did not care if you took a stance.
There is this old tale about the neighborhood I live in.
They say that one day someone furious will burn it all down.
Not like all those years ago when the great kings did it –
This time an angry woman will act like she has a crown.
So, I walk these city streets now, I avoid buying matches,
And I only burn my candles at night when they all rest.
Back then they put gallows on a hill and called it fairness,
But these days they skin us bare and call our souls blessed.
-Jackie
There is this door floating between the tall trees,
And it tells me that I have reached my destination.
They used to tell me that truth sets people free,
But I would choose a fairytale without hesitation.
All I knew was how to keep chasing rotten dreams,
So, when they blew up the path, I lost my balance.
When the fabric of my life came apart at the seams,
They assigned me sharp teeth and killer talons.
I was their prey, but they called me the beast.
If I played the part, they stripped me of humanity.
I escaped their flames, but my pride was deceased,
And I almost believed in my own depravity.
Yet, here is the door, and it floats between trees,
And I feel every creature in the forest behind me.
If I open it, will I drown my past in stormy sea?
Will my anger die, or will it follow me blindly?
-Jackie
I keep my pace steady as leaves rustle behind me.
Birds snap their wings and die right on cue.
Small branches break as it is coming to find me.
Air freezes and paints my dry lips deep blue.
There is a breath on my neck that smells like sewage.
Hot saliva drips on my shoulders and it burns.
I feel my feet landing in puddles of fluids,
And I smile with my teeth as my stomach turns.
The monster follows in my footsteps for hours,
But I just keep walking like I have no fear.
One quick look and I will lose all of my power.
It will swallow me alive with nobody to hear.
-Jackie
The Daily Writing of Jackie Wright 