Lithium

shove these p i l l s down my throat and 
t e l l – m e that I’m normal
enough for you when I’m staring at an 
empty void, loss of color and focus.

you tell me I can be f i x e d with 
medication but, when was I ever

BRO –
           – KEN?


stop trying to fix something that’s complete
you’re p i c k i n g away at what I am

T   E 
        A  R
               ING


away w h o  i  tried so hard to become.

you tell me I need theselittlewhite p i l l s
because for once in my life I’m finally
H A P P Y.

Lost in the Void of Normalcy

you’d rather i be 

m e dICATED

and normal, simple, dead 
in my eyes
(you want them to be void
of sparkle and hope, grace, compassion)

you think it’d be easier
if i never felt the things rising to the surface
bubbling and causing the sweet upward curl
of my lips.

you wish i was flat, emotionless, broken
you choke me on those pills
tell me it’s helping me to be NORMAL
but all it does is bring the 
numbness back and force me 
under the perpetual shade of
darkness behind my eyelids.

i’ll never be normal enough for you.

Line Breaks

I’m caught
in these lines,
stanzas, versus,
lyrics
because they
remind me how
broken, lonely
in love
I am.

I read
them so often
it almost
hurts
they always
tell me who
I am
or was
long ago.

Even now
my words have
the ability
to
break someone’s
heart on contact
to show
love and
hate – red.

They overtake
my memories of
a happier
time
and make
them seem less
important than
the times
of sadness.

I wish
I could find
my way
out
of this
labyrinth of dark
words and
unhappy moments
in life.

Nonsense

This isn’t technically a poem, but it’s close to it.

It was a simple task on record, but off it was easily the hardest thing she could ever hope to accomplish.  

In his arms, things were safe, warm, delicate but on the outside of his embrace she was finding life hard to cope with.  On the outside there were no gentle kisses to her lips, cheek and forehead to reassure her of her safety.  There was no strong arms to hold her up from hitting rock bottom.  And there was certainly no peaceful slumber.

She could argue that he didn’t understand what he did to her.  She could almost be certain that he didn’t know of the delicate emotions that erupted with every twitch of his fingers and every flutter of his eyelashes against her cheek.  And, of course, she knew without a doubt that he didn’t know about the sensations she felt when he pressed his bare flesh against hers, or nuzzled her neck.

In fact, she wasn’t even quite sure herself.  The only word previously used to describe these intense emotions was “butterflies”.  The word seemed so broad now.  The butterflies referred to a feeling in your chest or stomach, not a feeling that washed over your skin in waves, making you feel warm, safe and wanted.

Outside of his arms was where she currently resided, head resting on her knees, eyes staring sideways at the blue wall in her darkened room.  One hour being both the exact amount of time he had been gone and the exact amount of time she slept the previous evening (or morning, but who’s counting).  

She was tired, her mind ceased making sense and she still tingled from the whisper of his touch (strong arms previously wrapped around her).  Her body ached to both be with him and to drift off into a peaceful slumber, where her memories of those few beautiful (however, fleeting) moments they shared earlier in the day would be on repeat (and not drenched in blue around the edges).

Alas, neither ache would subside as neither want would come true.

Peace was written on the walls, on her sheets, on her blanket, on her clothes, but never in her mind.  Slumber was painted where it was able to be seen, but not to be acted out.  Love was at the fore front of her mind, body still holding sweet whispers of caresses.  

Dear Mr. Sandman,
the slumber never calms
the waking beast
changing their heart
to let someone in

but perhaps, it’s misery.

Book Review: The Witches of Dark Hollow Ridge by Rena Marin

The Witches of Dark Hollow Ridge was a great read!

In my opinion, there is so much lead up to the actual plot that felt a bit unnecessary, but I actually really enjoyed this book. The romance between Sadie and Dorian felt really underdeveloped, though. It seemed a little like it was thrown in there as an afterthought, when in reality Sadie’s relationship to her “coven” and her younger sisters was a lot more interesting.

Instead, I got a story where I had to follow a lot of (red herring) threads and an uninspired romantic plot to get to the meat of it. The most interesting things in the book were the betrayal of the coven, Cleo’s plot, and the High Priestess arc which I genuinely enjoyed. 

However, take everything I say with a grain of salt because if romance isn’t a long, pining slow-burn I have an intensely difficult time getting into it. So, if you like quick romances I would recommend this story. 

I rated this 4 stars, though because the actual plot of the story is really gripping. I intensely enjoyed the plot with Cleo and Ebony. Though, I imagined the characters a lot differently in my head. Ebony’s description was a huge surprise for me. 

I also intensely loved the relationship between Victoria, Veronica, and Vivian. Even though for most of the book I confused Veronica and Victoria because the names are very similar and it took me awhile to figure out which of them I needed to be angry at. (Short answer: both)

I hope the second book in the series will focus more on the coven and also better explain the relationship between Sadie and Dorian. Also less whining about how often the younglings were lied to. I get it, it sucks, but I got it the first 3 times you were outraged, Sadie. You don’t need to keep repeating it.

I’m also really interested to see how Sadie will grow as a person and as a leader throughout this series. I was heartbroken at the ending for obvious reasons (You broke my whole heart, Rena Marin, and you know why) and I know Sadie is heartbroken too. I wonder how that will change her in the future. 

Overall rating: ★ ★ ★ ★
(4/5 Stars. )

Rating breakdown:
Prose: 👍👍👍👍
Plot: 😄😄😄
Characterization: 🧙‍♀️🧙‍♀️🧙‍♀️
Boredom meter: 🔥🔥🔥🔥🔥

I look forward to reading more from this world.

Sleep Now, My Princess

laying back
eyes closed
d r i f t i n g away 
against your chest
your heartb  e  a  t
lures me d ee p e r
into a land of dreams
and happy memories
that only e x i s t when
you’re holding me
and telling me “sleep now my
p  r  i  n  c  e  s  s
in that sweet calm voice while
you run your fingers through my
hair and kiss my forehead
and in my dreams
these moments
never end.

Stockholm Syndrome

TW: Murder, kidnapping, child abuse, sexual assault 

Dear,

I have a confession
and I don’t have much time
to tell you of my regrets

Dear,

I may have killed a man
with his own gun
my shirt is soaked with his blood.

Dear,

He begged for mercy
but I didn’t feel merciful tonight
is it even really that bad
to kill?

Dear,

I’d like to think he was innocent
but he wasn’t.
he killed first; he killed my father.

Dear,

He told me, as he lay dying
that he killed him to protect me
that the man wasn’t really my father
that I was brainwashed.

Dear,

I shot him again
right between the eyes
when he told me his lie.

Dear,

The man was clearly delusional
and he took away all I had
the man who raised me from birth
after my mother abandoned me.

Dear,

If you were afraid,
they already caught me
after all, I killed him in his home
a Police Station with a big brown dog by his side.

Dear,

The sirens were so loud,
just like the night daddy died
when they took me from his home at
the tender age of thirteen and thrust me into 
the arms of a woman with long brown hair who
looked a lot like me.

Dear,

They told me the woman was my mother
they’re all a bunch of liars
my mother was a whore.  Daddy said she’s 
dead by now.  Rotting in some ditch
just outside of Jersey.

Dear,

Daddy said I’d never see her again
and then he’d tuck me into his bed
every night.  And tell me how special I am
and how I’m his “beautiful” girl.

Dear,

Daddy loved me.

Snow Angels

A flurry of southern snow and on Christmas no less
Seen from a lit window, the first snow flakes during
the famous gift exchange

“It’s snowing!” An excited exclamation 
and to the window two sets of feet traveled quickly
the room was full of awe and wonder
coats were drawn, 
scarves flung around throats haphazardly

And the snow angels danced, spinning with the crystals
of white and purity and the world feels cleansed

You say, “lay down, I’ll show you something beautiful”
I oblige, and you take the snowy ground next to me,
lace your fingers between mine…
and we make snow angel lovers

You tell me, “I want to make these with you forever”
and I tell you, “that’s how long we’ll wait for another miracle.”

in wonderland

With this red thread she can’t hold on anymore
there’s this wall between them
a wall of pain that they’ll either get over
or break heartstrings trying.

you can’t reach me anymore
is what she says when she falls into
WONDERLAND
through a small hole 
the size of her fist
and strategically placed
in her back yard.

He searches because he’s sorry
that she’ll never be able to sleep again
without the sound of his voice
whispering sweet “I love you’s”
and begging her to calm down.

She falls because she doesn’t know
the way back up
or that going back up is even and option.

She knows she’s not Alice,
but the promise of never hurting again
seemed far too good to pass up.

He’s not the white rabbit
but he’s late for a very important date
and he knows he’s too late to reach her.

All he remembers are her last words
the only thing that can carry him home.

Bubbles

Floating in mid-air, round, simple, clear
we’re caught in a bubble, a small little circle
of love, life, and all the simple things
you’re my world and you don’t know it.

It’s so easy to fall in love with you
you’re patient, sweet, full of :heart:
and I miss you when we go into those
two separate ways, headlights facing apart.

I can’t begin to describe how hard it is
to stretch a bubble without breaking 
the heart.