A shard of ice,

lodged where my heart should be.

It's said liquid nitrogen,

not blood,

flows through my veins.

They call me the Serpent Queen.




They call me Satan's Mistress.




They call me a killer.




I take these names,

and I welcome them.

They are the keystone of my wall,

the metal of my armor.

But words have barbs.

I try to turn them outwards,

try to protect myself with them.

But they catch in my skin.

They tear at the seams,

letting the cold bleed out.

It freezes on my flesh,

turning the tender covering to black.

They're killing me,

these names.


ever so slowly,

they are sucking the life from me,

parasites on my will to exist.

But then I hear your words.

To you, I am no snake.

To you, I am no demon whore.

To you, I am no murderer.

You call me a princess.

You call me beautiful.

I do not agree

with these descriptions.

I will never be

an elegant lady.

I will never be

an admired beauty.

I do not see what you see.

Sometimes I convince myself you're lying,

that you only say it

because you pity me.

Sometimes I want to hate you for that.

Sometimes I do.

Because it would be easier,

so much easier,

to only know your pity,

your disappointment,

your disgust, even.

I could hate you in peace,

keep my loving heart

easily bound in check.

I could ignore you,

will myself not to get lost

in your crystalline blue eyes.

You would never have known how I felt,

for I am a master deceiver.

My lips, my face, my body,

even my eyes,

can tell the most believable lies.

I'm fine,

my lips mouth.

I'm happy,

my face shows.

I'm completely at ease,

my body reveals.

My eyes lie the best.

They say:

I am gentle.

I am sweet.

I care.

I love life.

But when you are near me,

my heart quickens.

I feel a burning in my chest.

A sensation

where only numbness has been.

I could hate you for that.

I can pick you out of a crowd.

Even if you try to hide,

I still always find you.

It's as if I'm drawn to you.

Some magnetic force,

reaching across time,

to bring us into each other's lives.

You've told me you feel it too.

As if we've met in another life,

you say.

And when I'm in your arms,

I feel warm and whole again,

like that piece of me was never lost.

I could hate you for that.

You say it's not that you can't or don't

feel affection for me.

It's that you won't.

You say you want some freedom.

I understand that longing.

But one more year and I'll be gone.

It's as if you hope

time will run out

and you won't have to choose.

I could hate you for that.

You say you're not good enough.

You say I could do better.

You use it as an excuse,

a smokescreen.

I could really hate you for that.

You say you are broken.

You say we would clash.

I have three words for you:




I know how it feels to be broken.

You say I need someone whole,

someone who will make me laugh.

That are so many things

you don't understand.

And I could hate you for that.

You don't understand

that when you smile,

my heart tightens with joy.

When you laugh,

a true smile graces my lips.

When you hold me,

all the worries are gone.

You say I deserve better.

I say I'm not worthy.

We run in circles.

Both chasing,

both fleeing.

It seems like it will never end.

I am so close to you,

and yet so very far away.

I could hate you for that.

Everyone else sees me

as the girl I wish them to see.

But you,

you have seen my flaws.

You have seen the mask crack.

I have let you within the walls.

And yet,

it's as if you don't even care.

I could really hate you for that.

But I don't.

I never have.

Even when I tried so hard

to get angry,

to shut you out of my heart.

I thought I had succeeded.
A long summer spent

training, hardening my heart,

forcing every memory of you away.

But then I saw you again.

At first I thought

I was imagining it.

But it was you.

And suddenly

all my walls crumbled

and there you were,

nestled in my heart,

as if you had never left.

And so I go on waiting.

I can be patient.

But just know,

I wait with hope

and love,

never with hate.