she can't die

but she can't live

what's left then

being numb

it's better then feeling anything at all

she might as well smoke herself to death

lungs scream for nothing but air

feelings will disappear like the butt of a lit cigarette

depression got herself snorting up her dreams as they lay a waste in front of her

smoke fills the car as her red eyes cry

hitting that gas pedal to reach 180 is a high

she's gone lost in the smokey abyss

I see you look at me with lust-filled eyes

While all the while you are bound in ties

I bite my lip and offer a smile

You shudder, knowing you will be here awhile

I am used this

Those subtle glances I never miss

From men and women who pass me by

Their lips conveying desire in a sigh

I know they want me

Because I make them want me

I fly my flag of dominance

Wearing my crown with prominence

I simply adore the way they stare

The longing they unveil without a care

And the hint of fear they try to hide

Fills me with ever so much pride

They know that I will make them scream

Milking them of their delicious cream

They know that I will have my way

At any time of night or day

Yet, they can quell my assault with a whispered word

A word that will bind the wings of this bird

A safety word I will arrange

A simple word, nothing strange

Yes, I know I am a wanted lady

And sometimes I may seem a little shady

But I can promise I am not

I will just make you cum, a lot

Sometimes I do not even try

Yet still I hear their desperate cry

Shouting out salacity

That has risen beyond their capacity

So, you know I am in high demand

And you have come to make your stand

But here you are, on your knees

And I am the one who holds the keys

Oh, how I live for this

To see the effects of my luscious kiss

To watch your eyes light up with hope

As I approach you with my rope

I crave the submission you freely give

As your body becomes my wanton captive

I hunger for you, yearn for you

You arouse me, oh, how it is true

The need I see between your legs

The relief for which it silently begs

Is telling me to make you mine

So together, let us cross the line

Let me show you the profoundest pleasure

Let me fill your cup beyond measure

Let me take you higher

Let me set your body on fire

Because when you burn, so do I

Let me make you the sun of my sky

Let me make you feel alive

With a delectation that will revive

I will take you to the brink

You and I will form a link

I will be the Mistress you need

You will be the feast from which I feed

And when I am through

After you had your debut

You will leave still wanting more

And probably, a little sore

But you will crave me, inevitably

And I will cherish your need, indecently

I will revel in it, bathe in it

As you wait and hope for another hit

Maybe, if you are a good boy

You can be my favourite toy

Maybe I will lure you into my den

And make you mine once again

Do not hold your breath though, love

I may leave you as my mourning dove

I will pass you by with a smile and wave

And laugh as you dig your lascivious grave

You will dream of me, Pet

I do love that we met

You were so sweet and pretty

My darling little kitty

I will remember your face

As you came in lace

I will remember when you were mine

And how for me, you crossed your line 

I have left my mark upon your skin

It was such a delicious sin

But, my sweet, you have left yours too

Yes, I will always remember you

©CJ

He kept me alive within the pages of his artwork; splashed with numerous hues. My fingertips became his paintbrushes and I would freeze time just to be his muse. But, as the incessant clockwork had its way, my face soon seemed weary, laced with boredom. He is an artist; he can’t limit himself. Art is borderless but, love isn’t.

That raven-haired, ceramic-skinned assistant, Veronica soon served as an inspiration for the portraits he made. My lips remained sealed; I didn’t want to believe that I wasn’t his muse anymore. He concealed canvases and lied about working overtime; I couldn’t bring myself to utter something because my lips quivered every time he said he loved me but, didn’t mean it.

Hopelessness painted our house instead of vibrant hues on the night when over dinner, instead of halfhearted sweet-nothings, I asked about her. His mouth overflowed with denial but, I saw the guilt creep into his irises. My heart raced as he forcibly admitted the truth. The table was littered with incomplete verses, fully-bloomed falsehoods and a plate of the apple pie he adored.

When sunlight poured through the window, I threw everything that I thought belonged to me into a bag and stared at it, realizing that the past five years of my life have shrunken into a mere bag. With misty eyes, I left him a note, telling him not to look for me because I might not be in places he may expect me to be.

The plate of apple pie remained untouched.

I had a home but, I was lost. Stumbling through the bustling city, I ended up at a bar. Anxious, drunk sport-enthusiasts were hurling words at the television screen. I drowned my sorrows in a glass of vodka punch, letting a few tears escape. Losing track of time, I gulped down the drinks recklessly. I began to feet nothing; neither sadness nor elation. The rainbow streaks of light were abstractly splashed across the room and the bartender’s face swirled in a blur. Amidst a pandemonium, I felt as if I was fading into one of those faceless strangers; I was slowly forgetting who I was. I tapped my phone and texted my husband about how happy I was to be partying at the bar which was my usual haunt. It felt surprisingly good and as the last drop of alcohol slid down my burnt throat, my eyes began to droop low.

The last thing I remembered was a black car speeding towards me.

A throbbing head woke me up as sunlight filtered through the window. I bit my chapped lips and squinted at my surroundings. The familiarity of this bedroom haunted me; this used to be ours. But, why was I here? This was the last place I wanted to be.

A cold metallic object clasped in my fingers caught my attention. A sharp-edged knife drenched in blood sneered at me. Alarmed, I threw it across the room and jolted my hand which was covered by blood too. Scarlet bloodstains ran down the hemlines of my dress. Whimpering, I stood up and reached for the doorknob. Tiptoeing through the hallway, I ran into my husband. The look on my face told him everything he needed to know.

“You did something really bad last night,” he said and I shivered.

“What did I…? What did I do? I don’t… I really don’t remember,” I stammered with tears running down my face, once again.

“Overcome by jealousy, you mercilessly stabbed Veronica to death. The cops are on their way, sweetheart. You couldn’t stand the fact that someone else had my attention, could you?”

“What? I didn’t… Victor, I swear I didn’t do it. You know I can’t do something like that,” I cried.

“The weapon was with you, wasn’t it? Don’t touch anything; let them investigate it,” he spoke nonchalantly.

“Don’t you trust me, Vic? I was at the bar last night, I told you. I couldn’t have done this.”

He left the room without saying another word, leaving me clueless and panicked. I shuddered at the thought of murdering someone. I may have never been fond of Veronica but, I wouldn’t go as far as killing her cold-bloodedly. But, the bigger problem was that last night was a blur to me. I forced myself to remember something and it only made my headache worse. I could recollect a crowd of drunken, sports fans, loud cheering, gulping numerous drinks and a black car. I couldn’t find a single answer for the millions of questions buzzing within my mind.

“Charlotte Howell,” my name boomed through the hallways.

I turned to see a team of police officers equipped with guns and other weapons with a firm look plastered over their faces. I sighed as I walked over to them. They told me that I had the right to remain silent just the way criminals are told on movie screens but, this time, I wasn’t an actress, I was Charlotte Bree Howell. Without protesting, I followed their commands and peacefully got into a car marked NYPD.

I watched an officer conversing with Victor, who was smirking. I was told that I was being taken to the police station for interrogation but, I knew better. They had recovered the weapon and stashed it in a transparent bag labeled “evidence”. Enveloped by shock and disbelief, I felt my heartbeats pace up. The thing I regretted the most was getting so drunk that I couldn’t remember a single shred of what happened last night after I exited the bar.

After the car halted, I stepped down as gracefully as I could when I realized that I was going to encounter paparazzi. Photographs will be clicked and coupled with saucy headlines for tomorrow’s newspaper since I was the famous artist, Victor Howell’s socialite wife. The news about Veronica’s murder spread like wildfire and burnt my reputation on the way. I admit that I was senselessly drunk but, I do know myself well enough to believe that I didn’t fatally stab Veronica.

I knew that suspects were considered innocent till proven guilty but, since the knife was coated with my fingerprints and I had bloodstains on my dress, it wouldn’t take long for them to place the blame on me even though I couldn’t have been more clueless. I was questioning myself at this point and wondering if the darker side of mine took over last night and stabbed Veronica Baldwin till she was lifeless.

I was ushered into a dim-lit room and asked to take a seat as my anxiety doubled by the minute. I answered the questions as truthfully as I could but, it wasn’t a clear picture to me, it was a myriad of blurs. I remembered nothing about what occurred after I stepped out of the bar at dinnertime and woke up in the bedroom at the house shared by my husband and me. They intricately noted down the details and made various entries about the time I left the house, what I was doing before entering the bar, when I left and what I did in the meantime.

After leaving the police station, I sheltered myself by checking into a ritzy hotel, accompanied with the little bag which had my belongings. It felt as if I was losing my mind and my soul seemed to be cluttered with chaos. Everything that happened last night was just too much to fathom.

I scribbled in my notepad to distract myself from the turbulent waves of emotions crashing against my heart:

the artist’s dainty mistress

lay lifeless

with her blood running down my sundress.

I was told that the police department will be closely observing my surroundings and what I was up to since the prime suspicion had landed on me. It made me feel like a criminal.

May be I was one.

The pulse,

on the right hand top corner of the computer screen,

has been beating

24 beats, wow my account feels alive.

with agitated gratitude I click to see

the souls hiding there

what color ink do they bleed?

what words make them feel alive when they read?

will I like your world as much as you kindly liked mine?

and if i don't is that fine? because it doesn't mean

that you don't shine but maybe I can't see in that frequency.

But always, they shine, illuminating words

and I find myself dancing with their metaphors like

I'm swimming in the air with birds.

I rent a free home for my ink at www.theprose.com

and I must say...It's a great place to stay.

It’s illogical to think

That when a rock is thrown

At the lapping waves of the ocean,

It won’t sink.

You are my ocean, love.

And I hope and hope

And fail

to not drown in the possibility

Of you and I

Strings. There were strings everywhere. Strings that connect person to person. Friend to friend. Never getting tangled. Always there, always everywhere that only I could see. I looked at all the different strings in the sky. The yellows, the reds, the pinks. The threads, the strings, the ropes.

I was focusing on a specific yellow string in the sky. The string was surrounded in the color of pain and misery, the color black. Suddenly, the yellow string I was looking at, snapped. I pursued the string back to two women yelling at each other. I immediately reached out and grabbed the two fading strings. My hands struck together with such force that the two strings became one once again. The two women started to apologize profusely. I let out the breath I didn’t know I was holding, the two friends were back together. As I was staring at the two friends, I heard laughter. A group of friends, all connected with yellow ropes, walked past me, all as happy as can be.

Down the street, a yellow roped pair turned into a red stringed couple. I saw them kissing, and looking at each other with admiration. Like they were the only two in the world. Another red roped couple were walking with their hands locked together, smiling sweetly at each other.

Suddenly, two people walking past me, collided. Looking up they saw each other with raw emotion. A bright glow emitted from both of their bodies. The glow created the most powerful string. The pink string, True Love. I heard gasps behind me. I turned around seeing a man kneeling on the ground, a box in his hands containing a ring. He lovingly stared at a woman that was connected to him with a pink string. She nodded happily and he got up and swung her around in a hug.

I looked at all the different combinations: Friendship, Relationship, True Love. All the different ways people are connected. Smiling sadly, I looked down where my strings should be, not seeing any.

A bell sounded, I turned back to see the building of colored webs. I walked into the school. It was filled with yellow, red, and even a few pink strings. Varying in sizes, twisting and turning. Amazed, I looked around at the red roped teens, kissing. There was a group of yellow threads gossiping in the corner. Two pink strings looked at each other and blushed as they walked past one another.

I was admiring the different view, the building I have never been in before. Seeing all the different combinations in here than in the outside world, I didn't notice when someone bumped into me. Making me fall to the ground.

“Oh my gosh! I’m so sorry! Are you okay?” A girl asked, helping me up. “Hi, my name is Alice. What’s yours?” She had long brown hair meant for a goddess, and blue eyes that reminded me of pools of water.

I opened my mouth to answer, when I felt a tug coming from my stomach as if something pulled me to Alice. I slowly looked down, seeing a yellow string come out of me and attach to her. A lonely string, the only string I had.

I smiled softly, already knowing everything would be better here.