Words Written Down

I wrote in my journal how much I missed you.

I wrote in my diary how grateful I am for you.

I wrote you a letter asking what was wrong.

You said “oh nothing. Just some uni stuff.”

I asked the stars what had happened,

I asked the signals in the air if they were planning.

Is that why all my messages go unanswered?

Is that why I’m hit with a brick wall

when I asked what’s the matter?

All those gifts turned out to be loans.

I forget where I signed. Was there a contact

I did not know about?

Where were the terms and condition

to a mutual account?

I reached out but you froze up

and now my fire placement is left to burn out.

I made friends with your voicemails

and the picture that I took

when you snuck out we said it was finaly your turn

to live your life for you, you agreed.

Now, you send me messages of busy lines and that’s just maybe.

Now I’m left in the pouring rain we once danced in,

but this time you sent it to drown me.

People say don’t mix friendship

with business suits

but we said offices are no place for a present.

So, I sent all eyes to you.

Because you were the forgotten child.

You made a bathtub of fantasies because you were never understood

but now you drop porcelain on my grave

and tell me I misunderstood.

So, now I skip journal entries

and my diary is empty.

Why should I remember what we were?

I know I should wish I never knew you but I can’t

because friends don’t treat each other like that.

Because friends don’t lie to each other like that.

xx zf

Nice to see you,

you’ve disappeared.

I’ve always loved the carnival games.

Though, I must warn,

I could never play fair.

I have yet to start my introduction to our love affair.

A long list of lovers, I care to exploit.

A longer list of traitors,

you’ve finally passed the vote.

All I ask is you blame yourself.

I’m infallible after all.

I cross all lines;

I’m a perfect storm.

Please, never set a boundary then cry when I shatter them,

those, I always ignore.

But wait, the hard times have yet to come.

I know you've heard of my distress,

I’m dying to see how this one ends.

Take my hand, jump and fall.

Don’t tell me you're surprised when your skull hits the floor.

Guilt is a dear old friend of mine,

he bends at my will.

This week, I cast him on my dear old best friend.

A rose garden filled with poison and thorn, prick your finger at my disaster.

Love letters you had never sent shall be ignored,

for I read your mind but chose no answer.

You’re the jester but I’m the queen.

Dance, my puppet, I wish to drain your last drop of caffeine in your stimulant deprived system.

I’m a disrespectful leech, I find out what you are and become all your toxicity.

Drown yourself in the sullen shell I made you become as I sit on my throne of bones and excess.

Blame me for my enjoyment,

you passed the test.

Welcome to my seventh level of hell.

I make saints go astray

and drive them insane.

You stood there vulnerable.

Of course I would take you to play.

What’s the point of a reputation if I cannot ruin it?

So write your name in my book--

sign it in red--

then I shall never speak to you ever again.

xx zf

Evergreen eyes

and little white lies.

I played the fool

but we always knew.

Golden sun faded to dusk.

Bury me in snow,

recount my blessings, woe.

Tresses lay in the cement at my feet.

Broken diamonds signal fraud.

A magic mirror,

a looking glass,

claim the fairest

is as white as snow

covered in soot

from the fireplace of hell.

I never dared dance

but for you, I would.

Leaping from the carriage

carrying me to my fate.

I held you close 

in the afternoon light

of childlike tales

and troublesome sisters.

Laughter falsified at my expense.

I shoot my words to kill,

my actions speak louder.

Her beauty, your flawless,

in a snow globe I shatter

and fall through the ice.

Allow me to die, maybe I shall

finally rest.

Through your glass, on my mirrorball,

watch my paint cause my pain,

lose all the golden saturation

of kindred, childlike wonder.

Maybe her spirit will haunt us

til death do us part.

A reincarnation of fables,

of woe,

of golden laughter

in our clubhouse of wonder.

xx zf

Our poet reads from her second book Sweet Tea and Ketamine. 

It was the best of times,

the worst of nights.

Faded lights in a darkened room.

A too-gauche party,

that is, until she met you.

Took a dreary path

under a snowy sky

she was a fan, so she thought she'd try. 

Forgot to stop and think it through.

Helped form the grip around

his Old-Fashioned love affair.

Clandestine meetings turned

"I do."

Scarlett letters tucked

deep in her favourite jacket

walking along

would-be Honeymoon Avenue.

But the honeymoon's over,

he whispered coming closer.

A peaceful ruler

could be the answer. 

Could catch us in the downfall.

Queen of Hearts had other plans, 

chopped off his head,

put him to rest

deep in the hill

dedicated to infidelity.

Clandestine meeting

turned illicit affairs

but I guess that's what happens 

when you're too young to care.

The snow was magical,

she pleaded to the void-filled air.

Honeymoon Avenue

fixed with cobblestones

of ill-tempted fate.

I guess there was no use running

from a kingdom meant to come undone.

Maybe catching fire could help

relight the spark lost.

Who would've guessed,

he'd supply the match.

xx zf

The Applicant by Sylvia Plath.

First, are you our sort of a person?

Do you wear

A glass eye, false teeth or a crutch,

A brace or a hook,

Rubber breasts or a rubber crotch,

Stitches to show something's missing? No, no? Then

How can we give you a thing?

Stop crying.

Open your hand.

Empty? Empty. Here is a hand

To fill it and willing

To bring teacups and roll away headaches

And do whatever you tell it.

Will you marry it?

It is guaranteed

To thumb shut your eyes at the end

And dissolve of sorrow.

We make new stock from the salt.

I notice you are stark naked.

How about this suit——

Black and stiff, but not a bad fit.

Will you marry it?

It is waterproof, shatterproof, proof

Against fire and bombs through the roof.

Believe me, they'll bury you in it.

Now your head, excuse me, is empty.

I have the ticket for that.

Come here, sweetie, out of the closet.

Well, what do you think of that?

Naked as paper to start

But in twenty-five years she'll be silver,

In fifty, gold.

A living doll, everywhere you look.

It can sew, it can cook,

It can talk, talk, talk.

It works, there is nothing wrong with it.

You have a hole, it's a poultice.

You have an eye, it's an image.

My boy, it's your last resort.

Will you marry it, marry it, marry it.

xx zf

The Black Art by Anne Sexton 

A woman who writes feels too much,

A man who writes knows too much,

Never loving ourselves,

xx zf

Sat on the leather seat of doom

as I upheld what a sane girl would do.

Told me it seemed as though

my love came out of a box

you wind up to scare little tots.

Maybe I like the attention

the people in my mind provide.

Maybe I like the attention

of the shocked parasite--

the danger of paranoid--

it keeps life on the rise.

Who was it who stated,

"every woman loves a fascist,"

I think she was right.

Pink and blue fluorescent lights

make your blood look ultraviolet,

make your smile look ultra-violent.

Maybe it’s the rush that I miss.

Hold my breath under acid,

kiss your lips until I die.

Drown me in the misery

of what it means

to be the perfect crime

I’ll marry you 'til death do us part

or until you crush my wretched heart.

The games you play, I eat it up,

the way you savoured my lifeline: you cut.

Dust to rust, the pain you keep me in

makes me forget the greatest sin.

Mamma told me don’t make deals

with a man as wicked as a friend of mine

but to be a queen is every girls dream otherwise being the lead of a tragedy.

xx zf

The Dead Poet by Lord Alfred Douglas

I dreamed of him last night, I saw his face

xx zf