Ice Queen

These simple words which stays the harsh whip’s lash
And bold-faced arrangement which eschews artifice
Are the bare cupboards of a kitchen
Removed of bon-bons and honeyed treats.
These worn walls are my heart
This scrape, a knife-wound from a careless vagrant.
No longer do I spread a sumptuous feast;
I offer nothing but shelter and a worn chair:
A kindness, if only you chose to see it.

Baring the Soul

Self-evisceration by telling the horrible truths
Of oneself, hoping the listening party
Will understand that the hurtful actions
Do not come out of malice or indulgent pity
Euphoric to let go, outgrow the chains
But at the same time, hollowed out
Punctured into Swiss cheese
Circular tears in the aftermath