A Girl’s Love

This is a little something I began a couple days ago. So far, there’s no real plot, just a premise, but I really liked this little intro piece to the characters so I felt like sharing it here. Don’t really expect any updates or chapters, stuff like that, because it’s really only an idea I’m working on as of now. I’ll let you know if anything changes after this though!

Written 12-20-17

“I loved a girl once. With pretty brown hair and pretty brown eyes and pretty pink lips that only ever opened to tell others lies. I kept her like one might keep a stray cat. I knew that at any given moment, if she wasn’t at my side, she was sneaking into another person’s home, another person’s bed. And it didn’t bother me as much as one might expect. I respected her lifestyle. I had no desire to change it, to chain her to me and drag her that much closer to death.

“My work is dangerous, too dangerous, I thought, for me to be keeping pets. I wanted to keep a palpable distance between us. I wanted for others to see her in my arms one day and a number of others on any other. I was frugal with my time. I gave her one day, maybe two every other week, and the rest of my time, I spent doing my job.

“She never asked for anything, but she was a well-kept woman. I provided for her without ever making it too outwardly obvious. I deposited money every so often into an account I’d set up just for her, I kept the police off her tail, supplied her with a new home whenever it became apparent that her most recent caretaker wasn’t treating her as well as before.

“That was one thing we never talked about, though you probably don’t care: the bruises, the scratches, chunks of skin torn off. I provided her with a safe, silent space. She came to me not for an ear to listen to her woes, but a place where nothing was ever asked of her. Don’t mistake me, I still took care of what I had to. A few dead men popped up on your radar no doubt, broken and bloodied, torn to the point of barely looking human. I did what I wanted. She didn’t ask for anything. She didn’t have to.

“You see, with my line of work, I’ve learned to read people far too well. I’m more in-tune with their thoughts than their words. But my cat. Oh,” I shake my head lowly, “she had me fooled pretty damn well. And that’s why I loved her.

“I can admit that now, you know. Now that she’s dead and nobody’s looking to catch me. I could climb the highest tower and tear my lungs apart screaming it to the world, and no one would care. Because that girl, that pretty, pretty girl, misunderstood me. When I told her I didn’t want for our lives to be entangled, that I couldn’t afford to let her stay with me. She thought I was stretching myself, going beyond my means to provide for her.

“The truth was, I’d never been outwardly interested in her going ons, I had purposefully kept myself apart from all of that. But that girl, she didn’t know how not to get involved. When she gave herself to me, she gave completely. Utterly and without hesitation, she gave.

“She saw the world I live in as a cesspool I’d fallen into, stumbled into one day and couldn’t fathom how to get out. Not knowing that I chose this, that I could get out any minute if I wanted, she climbed in, straining to reach me, outstretching her every limb trying to catch a wisp of a ladder, something to hand me, to help me find my way.

“She gave herself to the darkness ever so slowly. It was a visible thing that overcame her, that hardened her eyes and mouth, shortened her kisses, softened her steps. She came to me like a whisper in the night, a sweet temptation, murmuring promises of better things I had no interest in. She clung to me almost protectively, like the night was a menace intent on sucking the light from our lives.

“A few days before I killed her, she saw me as I truly am. I killed my target with a smile right in front of her, with an ease that she instinctively recognized as one I hadn’t acquired but was born with. She called me a monster, a deceiver, scum, what have you. And then she ran from me, she emptied the account I’d made for her and tried to lose herself in the cold mountains to the north, holed up in a run-down cabin.

“I would’ve been content to leave her there, to let her think she was rid of me, hidden away and safe. But that poor woman was so confused, so terribly wrapped up in her own thoughts that she ended up coming back all on her own. She came to me, hands still wet with the blood of her last kill, her footprints a shadowy stain on the floor, shining in the moonlight.

“I’d known I loved her since our first meeting, but I’d never considered her own feelings, had never thought that someone could consider me so deeply ingrained within themselves that they’d do what she did. Of course you know though don’t you? You know exactly what she’d done that day before coming to me. Who she’d killed.

“Her father was a stupid man. His hubris was a black cloud before his nose, preventing him from seeing that his daughter’d grown to see his business for what it was, to sniff out the amount of power he had and slowly claim it for her own. That’d what she’d been doing, of course, all those days swimming in the filth with me in mind. She’d been cultivating a new found strength.

“So, yeah, you could say I helped build up the cartel. That’s one way of looking at it. Or you could see it how I do, detective: the woman I loved gained too much power too fast and I was obligated to protect her pretty little lifestyle one last time.”

The man sitting across from me, breathes out on a long, contorted breath, his lips pursed in thought, eyebrows furrowed. “Miss Castello, what does that have to do with your charges of murder?”

“You wanted to know why I killed those gang members in their homes, asleep in their beds. I’ve told you. I confess.”

I slouch backwards, feeling the cold wood of the stool on my bare shoulder blades and tip my head up towards the ceiling. The detective is, of course, scrambling to get his recorder out of his coat. His hands frantically pat at the many pockets in his coat, going from his lap to his chest. He pulls out the tiny black device just as the warmth I’d been waiting for finds me.

Slender fingers slide into my hair and along my scalp just above my ears. Her hands gently hold onto me as I let my eyes slip shut. The man is choking on his tongue when the back of my head comes to rest on her stomach, her warmth seeping into the very air around me, snaking around my body and effectively lashing me to my seat.

“Have you waited long?”

I don’t bother answering. Her men have been tailing me all day, reporting back to their new mistress about who and what I’m doing. She knows I’ve been here for half an hour, knows that the detective here has been badgering me wherever I go. I don’t have to say a thing.

“I-I” the intrusive man clears his throat, his stool creaking as he shifts his weight, “I thought you said you killed her?”

A soft, twisted laugh vibrates the stomach I’m resting on.

“Metaphors are lost on the human race,” I mutter, already having lost  interest in speech. “Does this woman look like the girl I was talking about? How could I dream of keeping her like any kind of animal, stray or not? Think before you speak.”


Creating Our Forever

Let’s talk about sunshine on rainy days and the safety of land on stormy seas. Let’s talk about gold in the streets of Hartford and dragons while we sit on a plane.

I want to be silly and weird and have childish conversations, avoiding the things that matter for the irrelevance of 100 years from now. I want to forget the serious things in life and live out a fantasy where tomorrow never comes and forever isn’t a time but a state of being.

Let’s drive away on the winding, ever-changing ripples of time and forget the drab, the dull, all of the mundane. Let it fade away under the mist before our wandering gaze so long as you remain here with me.

I once asked an old boyfriend of mine to tell me a story where we never die and all he could say was: we won’t die, we’ll become stars. But I don’t want to burn billions of miles away from you or sit in an empty vortex without air or sound. I want to listen to the drumming of your heart in the safety of our own forever and lie upon the softest grass, the sun forever shining over us.

So if it rains, talk to me about sunshine. If we’re adrift in a storm, remind me of the land. If we’re in dangerous territory, distract me with fanciful tales. And if we’re ever stuck with no place to go, don’t tell me when we die, we’ll become stars.

I want to associate us with all things positive and beautiful, and when I’m with you, I want forever to become a state of being that we can fall into together.

▪☆ Written Oct. 10th, 2017 ☆▪

Day Eight: Change, She is

Of steel eyes, unyielding brow

The mountain does not move.

Of titanium roots, all-proof soul

The mountain will not fall.

Insurmountable, it stands.

Weakened ankles, broken spirits

The traveler loses all hope.

Crippled wings, shattered fingers

She touches the ground.

It is not without regrets or scars

That her body flattens grass.

It is not without help and love

That her body, weary, rests.

Broken bones, damaged faith,

A kind muse knows all.

Ruptured heart, burst lungs,

A kind muse heals all.

Songs of joy and sorrows dealt

Crumble for singing seamstress.

Mended wounds and loving scars,

She alters the course of time.

Day Seven: One Hundred Word Confession

What does it take to gain her attention?

How much must I embarrass myself?

Is it useless? Am I in denial after all?

Probably. I’ve wasted all my efforts.

I’ve struggled to preserve her happiness

At the expense of my bleeding heart

I have dedicated and damaged myself

For a friendship I will never believe in.

And if I were to put my foot down, it,

Inevitably, would expose the phantom

That she has made her life’s foundation.

To end my suffering, I’d destroy her.

And so, without ever taking a step, I

Will always back down for her happiness.

Day Six: The Dog We’ve Beat to Death

I have thought of leaving you behind

I have wondered of the joys that exist

Outside of feeling love only for you

And I have saddened every time

Because I am your leashed dog

With an utterly oblivious owner.

Without sparing so much as a

Glance, your hand falls, flays me

Open like a gutted, common prey.

I thought of leaving you behind

I wondered of the joys that exist

Outside of aching, pining naively

And I’ve been unwilling each time

Because, for you, I lie shackled

Dog of wilted spirits, hopeful tail.

Without lifting a hand, a finger,

You give hope, faulty wings

As useful as soggy pancakes.

I think of leaving you behind and

I wonder about how you’d react

To losing your last constant:

A leashed, hopeless dog, that’s

Taken to being led by the nose.

I thought of leaving you, of moving

On to someone else, someone new,

But none would be better for me,

None are suitable for an old dog

Of few tricks, little knowledge, I,

A dog that knows nothing better,

Am silently being led to slaughter.

Day Five: Who I Am

I’m not the kind of girl to grasp onto smoke
And listen when you tell me it’s cement.

I’m not the kind of girl to sit around all day
And wait patiently for a text from you.

I’m not the kind of girl to dissect your words
Forever looking for the truth in your lies.

I’m not the kind of girl to be made complacent,
Giving up all the others for you, silent speaker.

I’m not the kind of girl to listen to white noise
And pretend it’s music, to satisfy your needs.

But it’s been five years, and I’m forced to admit
That, for you, I forget all the different girls

That I am not — always and without fail.

Day Four: Who You Are

I wrote this about a year ago to convey my thoughts to a girl who never ever heard them. Originally, I set them up as a series of eight numbered days. I’ve already posted the first three without the day titles for some reason, but here’s Day Four.

Perched, like the purest dove,
She overlooks all that is
And ever will be for me.
She must know what awaits
Must be aware of all the pain,
Like finely carved arrowheads,
She sends my way from her spot
Atop the altar I built for her.
Before her enshrinement,
The angel way up out of my reach
Was pinned down before me
By her own doubts, misconceptions
About who she was and
Could ever still be.
And like a fool, a hopeless martyr,
I taught her how to turn chains
To dust, and broken wings to
Weightless clouds built for flying.
With words of praise and understanding,
I lifted her with my own two hands,
Set her high up beyond my reach,
And promptly forgot how to fly.

If you’re a dove on a pedestal,
I’m but a hawk without talons.

A Siren’s Warning

A shiver of fear, a frightened quiver along the spine,

A silently howling, haunting cry, choking the throat,

Curious wandering eyes fall upon her frozen figure,

Trembling by the door and shaken to her very core,

The two inch demon continues crawling by her toes.

Everyone knows now. There’s a centipede in the foyer.

A Shadow Lost in a Wave (Oct. 2016)

All my thoughts have stopped. Erased.

Muted. My skull, flooded with nothing,

Is a blank track playing on end.

Like lava it had flowed once

And overnight, the volcano withered away.

An empty basin, glorified and still,

It produces nothing but echos

Of a once great chorus.

Pause. Delete. It has been cleaned.

In sparkling new clarity

it is pure, without scars.

It is terrifying

to be so


Poetic Musings From Detention-Land

Otherwise known as Amelie wrote this in detention and rather likes it but isn’t sure what to call it. Or, if you prefer, Untitled.

A torrential downpour of nothing, falling upon a playground of silence in waves of tiny drops, overflowing into lanes of emptiness, each filling with a deep, profound lack of something that leaves the space hungrily gaping, an invisible mouth full of bittersweet air.