This I Must Confess

This I must confess

That I wonder when you will wake up and realize

What I truly am.

Because for all my fanciful thoughts and fairytales

I must confess that I will







You on the other hand are so trusting,

A naive soul believing that such whimsicality exists.

Innocent little thing

don’t you know?

Love is for children.

Innocent soul,



I will tuck your shadow into my pocket,

nails leaving a map of scars as  

I slip beneath your skin,

into the veins and arteries

until I burrow into your chest

and curl up in the hollow where your heart used to be.


I will whisper cotton candy words into your ear;

   smile painted on my lips

        as I pour kerosene on open wounds

                     and light the match.

(Still think I’m beautiful?)

These pretty little hands will reach in and

carve daggers from your bones.


Somehow I think you would find it romantic

if I told you

  that your dark eyes glow like ashes and dying embers,


that I fancy those shards beautiful-

                              the ones that

       once upon a time

             were your soul

before I took it

       and burned it

             to the ground.


To be honest;

I can’t look away from this civil war;

               the scars etched across your back,

      pulse frantic in it’s fight for survival,






I have not deadened is screaming,

Fighting for life,

And yet

that trust refuses to waver.

Never failing,

even as I strip you of all that makes you human.


peel your skin back to leave you naked

So I can feel your heart shudder in my palm.

(Love is for children)


Silly creature,



                                                   should run.

                                                      (I don't want to break you.)


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