Rheana Cherie writes fiction for the greater good of realistic, hopeless romantics and hopes to create a better world through the written word.
Show me your weakness
Let me run my fingers through your hair
Soothing the aches
Smoothing out lines
Baring my heart
So you can break it again
Each time you come begging
I lower my guard
Letting you in
And you sever my heart
A repeated stab
That I willingly ignore
While you laugh in my face
And call me a whore
Darkness creeps around frayed edges
Fingers of fear and untamed repression
Grasping at threads unraveling
Faster than they can keep ahold
Losing grasp of reality
Insanity taking a turn
Twisting the hour glass
So time holds no meaning
She’s slipping
Faster and faster again
Waves crashing
Holding down each heavy limb
Her movements slow
As water rises up her throat
Ragged breaths disguised as breathing
While laughter rings in her head
No one sees her drowning
Because this is all in her head
Pluck my petals
and leave me for dead.
I’m only divine
face down in my bed.