Tag: writer

Your Blue Waters Are Deeper Than Mine

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Photo by Naomi Berur

We hiss under our breaths on the dirty kitchen floor,

Throwing around some passive aggressive phrases,

And the ones you throw hurt much more.

I am not sure why I spilled the water or why you erased it,

All I know is that you swear you adore me,

Yet somehow you cannot face it.

Your sadness is a color of grey that makes me say “sorry”

Even when you break dishes and damage the faucet,

Even when you find my hurt boring.

Your blue waters allow you to say that you simply lost it.

If I ever lose my temper, you go silent until the morning,

Then hold my self-preservation hostage.

I see it clear as day, and it is you I am mourning

Because these days I am only a jewel for you to polish.

You tell me that my needs should come with a warning.

My chest does not lie, but feelings tend to vanish,

And after all the silent treatment and all the burning

Can you really say my indifference is outlandish?

The day is coming – I finally leave you for him.

You run around saying that I was banished,

But no one listens as you lose your breath and fourth limb.

So, watch your tongue before my heart gets famished,

Do not paint me as just another harlequin,

Do not drag me around like luggage,

And if you shoot for the heart, you better win.

-Jackie

Dehumanizer

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Photo by Lucas Pezeta

You call me venomous as you drift off to sleep,

But my poison only bleeds through my skin when I’m attacked.

You tied yourself around me and dragged me into the deep,

And I don’t think I ever got my bravery back.

You drift through these halls like a medieval ghoul,

Trying to convince me that the living made your bed.

You give each soul you know these tasks, then burn their tools,

And as a punishment you burn the city and the shed.

People hold your hands but you stare at the space,

Preaching silly little psalms about how we’re never free.

You tear down smiles until frowns freeze on faces.

I swear you’re not the one I met when I was twenty three.

-Jackie

Out Of Love

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Photo by Arın Turkay

It has been a few days since I murdered my mauve vertigo,

And all I have left is a pinch of disappointment.

I am falling out of love and I am not sure how to let you know.

Do I admit it now or treat it like an appointment?

In your head I am already the villain in a palace,

Laughing as blue-collar workers pass me by.

You cut every warm corner of me with pure malice,

But I am sure someone will give your faux story a try.

I almost forgot that I am not that difficult to cherish,

Yet you would have probably enjoyed my ego bursting open.

In ten years you will look back at everything we perished,

And I will not recognize your face, but you will still be hoping.

Do not think for a second that those mountains moved themselves.

I pushed them on my shoulders until my skin was raw.

Instead of loving people, you just put them on these shelves,

Polish them until they shatter in your razor-sharp claws.

It has been a few days since I let the flames lick my charred scars,

And I frown at the mere thought of you being mine.

I am falling out of love with you in smoke-filled city bars.

Will you even notice when I finally cross the line?

-Jackie

Begging Me

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Photo by Matheus Guimarães

It’s never a good idea to raise the dead, but a man must kill what he buries,

And since you buried us by the church, I’m done picking words like cherries.

I guess that’s alright, you just don’t have the time to reach out these days.

Hope you’re out there finding a younger fantasy to mold like fragile clay.

You know better than the rest what it feels like to sneak up on people like prey,

Go out of your way for years to build trust that’s easily smothered in a day.

You convinced me I was mean for questioning your righteous ways.

Now you tell your sleepy city that you weren’t even planning to stay.

Maybe I got it all wrong, maybe I should’ve paid more attention and money,

But I guess now we’ll never know, and I guess you’ll never find it all funny.

I’m just a buzzkill, just a stone you used to get closer to the grand prize.

I’m a wicked witch haunting people until they change up their old alibis.

You see, it’s not a good idea to raise the ones we put in black caskets.

The truth is knocking from the inside, and the curse is begging for me to cast it.

-Jackie

Confessions

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Photo by Alexandra

You alter the air I breathe until I barely recognize it.

Loving you feels almost like living on a different planet.

We watch movies and spill our most shameful stories.

I hide my true self between sarcasm and allegories.

You push me away when you cannot take the rush.

Honey, is my love supposed to exhaust you this much?

I do not want to wait another night for you to say

That you have lost your patience and cannot stay.

I am deeply insecure, always scared of my own fear,

But I would beg if that was all it took to keep you here.

You dissolve my narcissism into lukewarm peace.

I must now get used to not flying from the trapeze.

-Jackie

Selfishly Numb

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Photo by AlteredSnaps

The people I meet on the loneliest nights

Tell me I don’t have any feelings

But they might.

I’m not sure what they see in my dead eyes,

And I don’t even ask,

I don’t apologize.

They can confess love as much as they please,

Cover me with white roses

Or get on their knees.

I hurt every time they try to convince me

That my wrists have a pulse

Because I know who killed me.

But they don’t listen, they just keep talking,

And I feel lonely again

When they are gawking.

The people I meet have skin in the game.

They assign me a purpose

Like I’m a beast to be tamed.

I’m not sure why they chase my presence,

And I don’t even ask,

I just take the presents.

-Jackie

My Narratives Trap Me

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Photo by Ekaterina Astakhova

They point fingers, they shake heads,

They make boots for me from lead,

And I bow down to the floor,

Begging them to curse some more.

Their heels dig into my bare shins,

And they’re convinced I’m made of tin.

I break my lashes into pieces

As they spill my wine and reasons.

They know how to make me tick

Even when I’m burned and sick.

I wish they had some sharper blades.

My truth spews flames from greyish shade.

They turn my stomach inside out,

Kiss my goodbyes on the mouth.

I hope one day I lose all ink

Or break the part that makes me think.

-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