There once was a girl who took on the world.

Her heart was full, her future bright.

Oh how I miss her,

And that glimmer in her eyes.

Ripped in two by more than a few.

Until all that remains is this mile wide ditch in her chest.

She is just a hollow shell now.

Unable to love, unable to care.

Numb to this existence.

Maybe the rest of life will be less painful,

Now that she has nothing more to give, nothing more to take.

Useless to those that wish to prey on the optimistic and the bold.

For he was the one to throw the last stone.

The one that shattered the only remaining piece of her heart.



Somewhat Wicked Life

These days, I find great comfort in being alone.

In a world filled with monsters,

It all seems such a pointless charade.

One I no longer desire to fight.

Not for anyone,

Not anymore.

I’ve no need for the notion,

That I’d ever be chosen.

For it will only end in pain.

And so, I find myself treasuring the dark,

This solitude, my security,

In this somewhat wicked story of my life.

Happy Birthday

Today is a day much like any other

To everyone else that is.

For me today has much potential for joy

But I must first navigate through the emotional baggage attached to its creation.

I awake feeling saddened, disappointed and as I always do on this day…missing something.

A love that will never come, a mother who left me behind and the worthiness I feel on any other day.

And so I spiral

Just for a moment

Holding the hand of Reznor

As I recall all that could have been

And something I will never have.

Feeling quite the wretched


But I do not want this.

And so once I hit the bottom,

I will slowly wash it all away.

Inevitable Defeat

I can feel it taking over

The sadness

These all too familiar

Feelings of defeat.

And I know what happens next

For I have been here too many times before.

The pain will grow to anger

From feeling like a fool

My heart will turn to stone

And my love for you will be nothing but scars.

I will turn from you

I will run

For those eyes that once warmed my soul

Will hold only the reminder

That you lied.

You never meant it

You never felt it

And even though you said it

In the end

None of it was true.

Imperfectly Perfect

I trace the lines of your face,

As I struggle not to get lost in your eyes.

But I do.

Every time.

There is no love for me there,

But it makes no difference to my heart.

You are not like the others.

And neither am I.

Perhaps that is why,

I feel so safe with you.

And so empty when you are away.

If there was only a way to end this emotion.

A flaw,

I simply cannot overlook.

And so I search.

Reviewing our time together,

Looking for a reason,

To let it all go.

Playing With Knives

It tickles and prickles.

Gliding slowly along my skin.

The crispness of the blade piercing my flesh.

The need is growing stronger,

The yearning taking hold.

I desire to be damaged,

Fearing only he may know the way…

I like it.

How I long to be driven mad with passion,

To be taken.

Without warning.

Strangled and restrained,

By the one who once held my heart.

His fetish my reflection,

Shared darkness our bond.


For wicked is his poison,

That dances on my lips.

Drizzled bits of ecstasy,

Dripping ever so delicately over my tongue.


How I wish to find him hiding,

Somewhere away in the dark.

Ready and willing,

To give up the fight.


To prove me wrong,


But he won’t.


To show up unannounced,

Disturb my foundation,

Unsettle my core.


But he won’t.

And that’s okay.


I hold no hope for romance,

After all, I’m not a child.

For the eyes of a man can be telling,

And the words of a man deceiving.

To him,

I am no more,

Than familiar.

A comfort.

A friend.

A willing party,

Away from the war.

Another broken soul,

With whom to shed the mask.

And besides,  I’ve never found a lover,

Man enough, to tame this wild.