Trapped.
What a strange and terrifying
sensation to embody, the sudden
strangling and suffocating feeling
that crashes down on you like
being caught in the rolling tide.
The frightening realization that
you can’t breathe, that you gasp
for breath, but swallow the darkness,
the nothingness that is closing in on you.

That’s when the panic sinks in,
where you feel as if your skin is shrinking,
and your fingers dance across your skin,
tearing and ripping to pull apart your seams,
anything just to breathe again.
But it’s no use, the fear is too overwhelming,
like being trapped in an empty room,
pitch black, with no sliver of light to
guide your footing, and you

Then you greet the silence like an old friend,
one you dread of meeting again,
and the weight of unspoken words
hangs heavy in the thick dark air around you.
You try to scream, but not even a whimper
escapes your dry, trembling lips.
And you realize, you are trapped.

Trapped in the fear and darkness
of nothingness,suffocating alone,
and it’s the loneliness that terrifies you most.
Because you finally realize, there is no thought
worse, not even death, than being alone.
Here, you are trapped, silenced, and abandoned.

I have disappeared.
Slowly fading away, like the early
morning mist, drifting away into the
unknown, with no path, no destination
in sight, I simply faded away into the darkness.

I was beautiful once, I swear it,
full of life, passion, and dreams,
I sure was a sight to see.
But something went cold inside of me,
late one evening when sleep seemed like
something I had only read about, but could
never fully grasp, I laid awake, staring at
the cracks in the ceiling, wondering why
my life seemed so empty.

At one time I was loved,
it was my warm and caring heart,
my smile that lit up the dark city streets,
and the wild dreams my mind would conjure,
I made it easy for men to love me.
But there is a difference between lust and love,
and I found myself sleeping alone each night
tangled in cold sheets, wondering why I had
made it so easy for men to leave me.

So I began to fade, drift, dissipate, become smoke
and disappear into the darkness of corners,
silently transforming into a transparent girl,
the illusive, absent lover, the one that years ago,
you longed to make your own.

I ran away from the city, from the light,
and to be honest, I ran from myself, my fears.
And now I will remain to you, only a memory,
the shadow, the foggy image of the painted dreamer
the girl you once loved.

I am beautiful.
And trust me, so are you.
You might look at
this poem and think
“How can she say this,
she doesn’t know me.”
You’re right, I don’t,
but I wish I did, I hope that
we can speak all night until
the sun decides to show her
bright and radiant face,
just to give me a night where
I could get to know you
and all the quirky little things
that make you the unique and
magnificent you.

They called me weird, different,
names that people fear and run from.
But you know what I say to them…
Who wants to be normal anyways?
Aren’t the dreamers, the wishers,
the artists and free-thinkers the ones
who changed the world, who made
it a time worth living?

And yes, you can be beautiful
on the outside, but what I really
care about, what I look for in a
friend, companion, lover, is how
beautiful you are on the inside,
how your hopes and dreams
are wild and extravagant, and how
your heart is bigger than the rest
of your body, no matter what the size.

I want to blame society, for making
us fall victim to believing in one type
of beauty, an unattainable figure and size
that we torture ourselves over,
I admit that I too failed to achieve that image.

But I didn’t fail,
I found out who I am in the process,
I discovered how I’m different than the rest,
how my flaws, scars, and frizzy hair
make up the person that I am proud to be.

I am beautiful,
I won’t let anyone tell me other wise,
and I wish I could know you,
so I could tell you how beautiful you are too.

Dust has collected on
these notebooks of mine,
no words left to scribble,
or beautiful distant thoughts
that drift towards my mind,
nothing escapes these dry
and cracked lips,
not since you walked away.

I’ve told myself time and time again
stood there shouting orders at the mirror
that I have to be stronger than this
but the reflection staring back at me,
says something much different,
and there’s something that has changed
in her hazel eyes.

Fear.
The fear of being alone,
of never feeling loved again,
the constant fear that holds me
back from picking up the pieces
of my shattered and tired heart
and putting myself back together.

Alone.
What a terrible word to exist,
the weight of knowing how
awful it feels to turn over in the
night and feel the cold sheets where
your painted body once wrapped
itself so tightly around me.
Alone.
It’s when you come to terms with
loneliness and the emptiness
growing beneath your skin,
that sickening sensation that drives
dreamers to insanity.

Please come rest your bones with me,
I just don’t want to be alone tonight.

I have transformed you see,
into nothing short of being
considered a beautiful mystery.
I once resided, trapped within the
weak and wounded, the yellow
belly of fear, oh how terrified
I had become, hiding in the
shadows of my fragile mind.

But while I was trembling in
the dark corners, teeth chattering
and fingers shaking, I wondered,
what happened to all the dreamers?
Where did all the free thinkers, the
the lovers, where have they ran to?

Maybe I ask too many questions,
and perhaps it’s wrong for me to
dream in the brightest of colors, but
life is far too short to wake up with
regrets, fears, and malice in my heart.

I believe in fairy dust,
in happy endings, and even
love at first sight.
I trust that there is more out there,
mystery, magic, and something I
can’t quite put my finger on, but
somehow, I know I can’t give up
on my adventure to find what it is.

I refuse to hide in the shadows, or
wake up scared of taking chances on living.
No one said it would be easy but deep down,
I know it will be worth it in the end
to live without any regrets.

We were parallel lines
never intended to cross
paths, the centripetal forces
constantly thrusting us apart.
But we fought the laws of gravity,
laughed at the rules of physics,
and we collided,
what a spectacle we were.

We created a galaxy
of our own, lying there
with our backs nestled in
the prickly summer grass,
you pointed to the sky,
said it was a thick blanket
keeping our painted bodies
safe and warm.
We bathed in the milky glow
of the crescent moon, and
you pointed up towards the
brightest star, and named
it after me.

Maybe parallel lines are
never meant to meet for a reason,
I felt that fear deep within my bones.
But I pushed that thought out of
my clouded mind, focused on the
details in your eyes.

I know this growing sensation
deep within my chest will tear
us apart, but I will cherish these
moonlight moments while I wait
for the impending finality,
when our two black hearts finally
become one and implode.

Maneater.
That’s what he calls me,
knowing how easily I can
poison men with my sweet
words, delicately constructed
with my southern tongue, those
spoken through a plastic smile.

I could see the fear in his eyes,
but with each adverted glance
there was a sense of hope
lingering, he was trying to push
it back, out of his sight and mind,
he knew better.

We spoke for hours, laughing
at procrastination, smoking until
our cancer date was rained out.
His compliments were endless,
and his eyes were a shade of
blue I’d only seen in my dreams.

He was falling in love with me,
in that moment I could sense it,
the way he created a life for us,
a happy ending in his mind.
He wouldn’t listen to my warnings,
and I begged him to save those
poetic, romanticized words for
someone who isn’t as empty as I am.

You called me a Maneater, and
darling, I’ll eat you alive.