She walked alone
This gloomy night
Tender beast her only friend.
Dark clouds part to vanguard her way,
Soft, white light glowing incandescent on the dock.
Fog so husky, claiming dominion over their passage.
Black umbrella her shelter,
As she gambols toward repose.
The night held nothing for me after you left, my love
Where once the life shown from my face,
Reflecting the moonlight glow,
An emptiness was now employed.
The night held nothing once you left, my love
Only the finality of pain
Where drifting through rooms laughter once spread
The emanation of orchids instead.
A contradiction between body and heart
Caught in the current - wrong versus right
Somewhere in the gray between.
It's more than superficial
It's the fulfillment of a promise born long ago
When lights assaulted our senses
And you were drawn away.
Are you being honest with me to the bottom of your soul?
There's one more thing that I need to know.
When you sleep
When you close your eyes
Do you dream?
Do you wake with a hunger
The pain to the tip of my consciousness.
Be with me.
Feel with me.
Grief is closer to the surface
Than happiness will ever be.
You found me in the shadows of the grotto
Smiles and small talk lead to the jealous tendencies of the horse-faced killer.
What don't kill me, makes me lazier.
Secrets leak when safeguards sleep.
Running from the voice of reason,
Questions of reality...
Glad we made it out to see the sunrise.
She wasn't conventionally beautiful,
Of that she was abundantly aware.
Her nose too pointy.
Her body too spindly.
Her legs too long.
She moved more like a praying mantis than a woman.
But she loved what she saw.
She loved the way her body moved and folded in on itself.
Her contortions made her feel powerful.
She didn't give a damn what others thought with their judging eyes...
That was her super power...
That's what made her different; different than the other women,
Those running around with make up and surgery
Trying to fit into some sort of mold. An assembly line of faces.
If they don't love you - the outside won't make them.
Maybe for a minute,
When they desire you - a possession - when they try to conquer you...
But not really.
This is what made her great.
This is what set her apart.
This is what she wished she could spread.
I think of you,
when it’s inappropriate.
When I should keep my thoughts to myself,
you haunt my dreams
and invade my quiet thoughts.
You’re in the lipstick I choose,
in the perfume on my neck.
You bring inspiration, pleasure, pain.
You make me hate myself for what I feel.
You make me curse who I am
when you’re not around.
You make me want to be all things at all times.
You make me want to rip out my heart
and bury it deep where no love can find it.
Bleed my thoughts on the cold ground.
Throw myself into the fire,
the smell of flesh burning, bubbling.
Stealing all that I have left.
I want to sink the dagger deeper and deeper into my chest
until my life is extinguished and my heart beats no more.
Because you’ve seen me.
You’ve seen the parts that are kept in hiding.
Parts that are only for me and my pillow.
Parts that show that I’m human and can be hurt.
And you know that you have me
Raw, exposed and bloody, I crawl at your feet
And time and again,
You kick me in the teeth.
But how do we know pleasure,
If without the pain?
And how sweet is the winning
without losing again?
Your scandalous beauty was a thing of legend.
Showing ankle as you pranced across presidential lawns in the company of noblemen.
Your life, the life of a stallion, untamed and free, cut short by tragedy...
Wind in your hair as you turned heads sailing through pristine and proper burgs,
A snap - and then darkness
as your scarf tangled in the cog of the wheel.
Good night, my fair and flirty maiden, until you dance again.
Cursed is he who hangs from a tree.
But what of she?
She who had enough of her lover.
She who had enough of he.
She, prone to the madness of the moon.
She, with gunpowder and will
The will to be free - one way or the other.
Rough and ready
The snuff of light
The thumping of the floorboards
And my the Lord now have mercy on her soul.
Seedy back rooms
You follow after a look that lasts a little too long -
your cue to drop the coin in the slot, tune in, drop out.
back to when you were young and free and beautiful.
Back to when the dream seemed attainable and you still believed in chance.
Audrie is a writer and editor living in Illinois. She is a fan of all things horror and pop culture.