Tag: poetry series

I Fear The Third

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Two days along the line, just two,

And I am already done with hoping that I can make it out alive.

They tell me to enjoy the quick climb,

Tell me to keep my mouth shut and keep my demeanor benign,

But it has been two days, just two,

And I cannot count how many pieces my heart has shattered into.

They applaud my bravery and guts,

Then name call me behind my back, listing all the lows I have been to.

It has been two days, I fear the third.

My ears are ringing, blood cells are having a sprint in my hot veins.

They push their heels into my neck,

Making me beg them to let me survive, making me cry in pain.

Two days along the line, no more.

I am lying on my back, praying that I have the strength to leave.

They tell me it is never getting better.

I scream back and they stare in disbelief as I finally learn to breathe.

-Jackie

Fresh Daffodils

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What did I do to deserve this?

The spinning elephants, the roaring circus,

The lights wrapping the octagon,

Announcing a battle I have already won…

Why did my house of cards fell?

Joy has one rule – never oversell.

So, I wonder how I got it all wrong

Before the fate finished its favorite song.

Not that I skipped any lessons, no,

I always had some shoes to throw.

I was the kid sitting in the front row,

Re-writing scripts for Broadway shows.

So, what did I do to deserve this?

The fire turning my insides into hubris,

The hot coal beneath my aching feet

And your voice announcing my defeat.

Why did you take the castle down with you?

You promised to never paint it blue.

Now my mind is freezing itself alive,

And no one dares to give you an alibi.

It is you against everyone else again,

You against those you once called friends.

And you watch as the pressure builds

Until we die on your damn hills,

Then you go back to the city,

Looking for fresh daffodils.

-Jackie

Apathy

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I hear they celebrate stories like mine on silver screens.

They grin as they dress up in expensive dresses,

Showing off wealth and sheen.

But I, I am just left here, remembering every scene,

Counting down numbers and addresses,

Hoping I do not sound mean.

The bitterness has a way of seeping through the skin though,

Almost like filtered poison or toxic waste,

A radioactive afterglow.

So, I know they notice, I know they hear my nos

As I fade, losing my vision and taste,

Leaping towards yet another low.

They pop open bottles of champagne as I cry myself to sleep,

Ending the day as a winner in their story,

Dangling my feet over the deep.

I swear I can hear the dimes and coins whisper, but talk is cheap,

And I am not the one who should be sorry

With my body in roaring waters, head pushed underneath.

Still, I hear they celebrate stories like mine in balls,

One afterparty after another…

Their world must feel suffocating and small.

Meanwhile, all I see is cages, there are no windows or walls,

No bonds of the blood, no brothers,

Just apathetic eyes and missed calls.

-Jackie

Leave The Sharp Pieces On The Floor

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We stared into each other’s eyes, knowing it would be the very last time.

All I could think about was the day you let me win in charades,

And how you stole all my patience and dimes.

We looked at each other, but the world around us kept spinning.

Perhaps it was for the best, we were mere moments away from falling apart –

Or falling in love, whatever it takes to keep winning.

We lived in each other’s minds, now we only live in those memories.

I lean on you whenever my stamina wants to break in half

Because you taught me to never panic and never please.

But that day we learned how it feels to break into the sharpest of pieces,

How it feels to become just a picture on the wall,

A story someone drunkenly tells your nieces.

I remember, I remember it vividly – how we never looked away.

Everyone talked, but we watched their judgement fall,

Hoping that the endless storm was just a rainy day.

Now I pass by your house and the shadows melt into my blueish skin.

All I can think about is the day I beat you in chess,

And how I robbed you of arguments and of battles you could win.

What a time, what a blasphemy to all the loves that we hold holy.

I stare at the horizon from my window, knowing you feel it,

Knowing you think that you really owned me.

But I was a child back then and you were already made of steel.

Leave the sharp pieces on the floor, just leave it.

I have matured way past the need to make frozen hearts feel.

-JW

Only The Living, Only The Brave

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Cemeteries only haunt the living,

They gnaw at us like vultures,

Reminding that the time is ticking,

Pitting nature against nurture.

I am trapped in the nets of time,

And every day they cut me open.

If I trip and fall off this line,

My soul will be done with hoping.

But cemeteries only haunt the brave,

They look at us with slight smiles.

One foot deep in an early grave,

The other chasing long-gone miles.

I am tortured by my own demise,

And every second it kills me anew.

If I lose this one last disguise,

My heart will have to walk in your shoes.

-JW

Devotion

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Watch as I drink myself holy with this sacred wine,

Watch as the sacrament melts on this tongue of mine.

The crosses will cross themselves off, just you wait.

I have this fiendish feeling haunting me as of late.

The glowing cloud always follows me to the red altar.

My faith is still strong but my will, it falters.

I kneel before dinner and pray right after the mass.

They praise my devotion, but they know it will pass.

Watch as they find out where all my bodies are buried,

Gasp when they realize my name was never Mary.

The flies will drink my vinegar, thinking it was honey.

I have this fiendish feeling, it tastes just like money.

-JW

Sell-Out

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Did I just do it, did I sell out?

Now that my soul has a price tag on it,

Are you finally proud?

I will be tortured for the rest of my days,

Taking your face with a grain of salt

And a layer of glaze.

But I suffer in radio silence,

That is what I was taught to do,

Be my own worst tyrant.

You must be completely devastated,

You must feel ecstatic,

Powerful and emasculated.

And you watch as I fade away,

You do not blink or breathe.

I become the prey.

Tell me, did I do it, did I sell out?

Now that my eyes have pain behind them,

Are you finally proud?

-JW

The Mist

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I lay the bloodstained roses on your bed

As my soul shrivels up like a leaf.

The mirrors are grinning with teeth made of lead,

They are begging me to leave.

White mist sneaks around the freezing room,

Trying hard to steal my breath.

My fingers are dripping blood on the floor

As the thorns show no regret.

I draw a scarlet circle on the wall,

Then another one on my forehead.

The air smells of iron and early fall,

And everything feels so foreign.

I pick up the stained roses from your bed

As my heart ceases to exist.

The sky is laughing and crying red,

And I finally breathe in the mist.

-JW

Six Decembers

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Today I’m thankful for you,

Even for leaving me alone in the desert,

Even for letting me down,

Letting me drown in my own hurt.

Truly, I’m thanking you –

For the reasonable and the absurd.

I’m giving you the benefit of the doubt,

And it’s more than you’ve ever deserved.

I watch others drop their mirrors,

I see them struggling to breathe.

They cut their fingers on what’s already shattered

As I watch from a quiet backseat.

Their emotions get the best of them,

They glue the pieces together in rage.

But my tears are frozen in time,

Trapped in an aluminum cage.

For that, I’m thankful to you.

You don’t have a heart and neither do I.

As the world collapses on itself,

I never even cover my eyes.

Today I’m choosing gratitude,

But tomorrow I’m going to remember.

You froze me to death when you walked away,

I’ve been numb for six Decembers.

-JW

One Eye Open

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Tonight, I cannot let myself fall asleep,

Cannot follow them when they drag me into the deep.

One eye open, one eye rolled back.

I lie on my bed with a knife behind my back.

The ceiling is black like a starless night,

And I am counting breaths before the end of this fight.

One eye open, one eye on the door.

This is not my first war, they have been keeping score.

There is always more than just this darkness.

My heart is obscure, but it is praying to the fathers.

One eye open, one eye looking at them,

Snarling, shaking, hot drool sparkling like gems.

No, I cannot follow them, I must stay,

Must keep their sharp nails and claws away.

One eye open, one eye unfazed.

As they reach for my neck, sunrays hit my face.

Saved.

-JW