“Scrying Mirror”

Sometimes I do not think that I deserve to be loved.

I am strange,

paltry,

ugly.

I take swords to my chest, you see,

and I plunge them deep

whenever the corners of my mouth lift too high,

for my own liking.

I then pull them out and push them in again

and again

and again.

The pain of it lingers, though I stopped crying out a long time ago.

The pain of cracking my own chest open,

and hoping beyond hope that I like what I see.

And the hope that you, darling, like it too.

“The Haunting”

A darkness fleeting.

Your own light bulb,

crushed under your own two feet.

A smear of blue.

A drop of red,

on your stomach,

the side of his bed.

A danger,

a relic.

“Convince me,”

he says.

You can still see his voice,

a shadow,

dripping in barbed desire.

Something tangled up,

between your thighs,

around your pretty neck.

It was only the sheets.

 

 

“Me Merciful”

Fighting by your hands,

lingering in the stairwell.

My fists tucked between my thighs.

You breathing my breath,

stealing much more than my sunrise.

How did this happen?

Who is to blame?

Was it the night sky,

who brought us together?

Or was it the rain?

Caking my skin with marble,

encasing by your touch.

You were gone

before I had a chance to dry.

“Afflicted”

Crossing the abyss,

where my heart sits,

waiting.

She’s weeping,

ugly,

her thick legs stretched in front of her.

Stabbed with pins,

arms behind her back.

She’s surrounded.

No beauty, just a beast.

Her eyes won’t leave my face.

She won’t give up.

I know that, because she’s mine.

What should I do?

Her eyes implore me.

Now I’m the one crying

diseased tears,

ruining,

running.

She doesn’t understand:

I can’t.

I can’t free her.

I’m not enough,

I never will be.

Can I learn to love,

the way I see?

A tightrope walk of shame,

to be vulnerable.

Her ugliness is a feat of pure strength.

I wish I was that sharp.