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7 mos ago
Current I’m a little tired.
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1 yr ago
I’ve got a soft spot for villains.
1 yr ago
I’m a headache in a mini-box.
1 yr ago
Christmas time is here, my ex is the grinch.


𝕔𝕒𝕝𝕝 𝕞𝕖 𝕞𝕒𝕜𝕚, 𝕟𝕠𝕥𝕙𝕚𝕟𝕘 𝕖𝕝𝕤𝕖.

I write poetry, I’ve been off for a while. I may stick around for a bit again.


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Lovely liar

Once a liar,
Always a liar.
They will pull and tug
They will press onwards.
Humans are vile,
Never satisfied.
They’re always searching
For what to break next.

𝕒𝕓𝕠𝕦𝕥 𝕞𝕖

I'm still a piece of garbage

Most Recent Posts

I envy the stars.

They burn so brightly, a pattern against the night;
Beautiful? Sure, beautiful to the eye, but beautiful in nature as well.

So far from us, they are only mere dreams.
We may not reach for them with expectation
to grasp, for they are something untouchable.
Something unobtainable.
Something one cannot own.
Something that could never be tamed,
So that even if you could get close,
They would burn you to a crisp.

We cannot claim a star,
Taint them with our grasp.

I envy the stars,
Purely because I wish to be a speck against the black sky.
Hidden away from the world’s hateful hands,
To only be thought as pretty,
And to be recognized as something that will never truly be owned.

My bruises would fade from my flesh,
Mingle into a fiery gold one would fear clasping,
One would fear challenging.
The tired eyes of mine would witness no lies,
My heart would feel no bitter betrayal,
And my lips would no longer speak troubled words.

When I die, I do not fear what is to come;
For while I know I do not deserve the peace I seek,
The peace I want,
It is alright to dream.

If the Reaper shall watch me,
I shall watch him too.
I shall challenge the cold gaze of death with my own,
Challenge it to take me far away from everything I know,
From the depths of this world,
From the happinesses I have known,
From the pains I have endured,
And to place me into that black sky,

Welcome, hopefully you’ll find something you like here and a few partners to write with.


” Look at me just like that. Your eyes are so black I can’t help but get lost, darkness has always pulled me but not quite this hard. You can tell, you can sense my intrigue. Chase me like that, like I’m a faltering dream.

You know what I want and somehow you provide. I’ve never had a type and I won’t let our minds collide, but I constantly see myself next to you when I can’t sleep. Your arms seem a little more comfortable and your lips somewhat inviting.. Just kidding, that was bait and you were certainly biting.

I can tell from the way you talk you hate yourself and many others. I can tell deep within that sleepy voice you’ve been hurt and sore. I can tell now, too, that you don’t fear death, and for some reason I can’t help but to admire your strength. You take my bruised hands and listen to my heart race, you caress soft cuts and pinch tiny blue marks scattered on my skin. I know you wish for the same taste.

Please. I want time to end if it means I get to stay. “

I think I may be getting lost within the life of a man who died before he grew up, who stared right at the reaper and told him to go home. I think I may be troubled with a boy who causes harm but always means good, who looks too deeply and too strangely to me.

I think I may have met my match, because when I speak he does not fall victim and when he talks back I see myself. I feel at a loss and confused, unsteady.

This man is picking the locks to secrets I hold, and I fear that someday I will be too tired to push his hands away from tampering. From plucking, from seeing me down to my lowest moments and saddest memories.

-Ophelia (WIP)

◣Anastasia Noir◥

Silence? Were their screams silent as you tore through their flesh?

Some would say silence speaks more words than we can comprehend, but silence is simply that.

Quiet and void. A sanction for questions and misunderstandings, silence proves both innocence and guilt. She hated silence. Anastasia narrowed her eyes ever so slightly at the man, circling him now.


Colten Bonds..


Did you kill that little redhead for the fun of it?


Did you make her watch as you massacred her family?


Where is her body?

The woman had walked her way around the chained man, admiring his restraints; chains that held his pride to the ground, that kept his freedom solidly locked. He was bound like a dog, a vicious dog that didn’t know when to stop biting. The corner of her lip twitched ever so slightly as she sat across from him.

The table should have been longer.

“Quiet, hm? That’s okay. We have... One whole month! One. Whole. Month. We’ll be on friendly terms soon enough.”

Her head lifted to rest atop her right fist, her left disappearing into her pocket. They both may have been snakes, but only one would fall prey to the other. There were many ways to break a criminal, she just had to find the way that worked for him. With dark eyes drilling in on the man, she pulled forth a pen, dark but small. Anastasia tapped it lightly against the desk, her smile widening.

“Usually, pens are for writing..”

She lifted it a moment, gesturing towards him to grab it before sliding it back gently into her pocket.

“We won’t be having any problems, Colten. I don’t know what went on between you and the man before me, but I am not him. I'm better than him. I want to understand you, I want to understand why you’ve done the things you’ve done- if you were to blame. If you can’t talk to me, I can’t help you. I’m not here for those detectives, I’m not here to get you into more trouble or to judge you. I’m here to understand.. Will you let me understand?”

She doesn't know what’s worse: to not know what he is and accept his silence, or to lurk within this wicked games, and find out herself. Oh how she loved this game of minds in the same way she hated his crimes- wholly and with her entire being.

One month only.
And she will watch him bleed.
And she will watch him fall.


Anastasia Noir

“You shouldn’t be smoking in here, Mrs. Bosquét. About the man-”

“Miss Noir. I want to be called Miss Noir, detective.”



A glass wall laid between the authorities and young man; they could see him, but he could not return their gazes. How many victims had he raked, exactly?..

“Ms. Noir..”

A hesitant thumb ran through notes as the male detective spoke irrelevant words, hungry eyes eating away at the information sprawled with haste.

This man, the murderer, he had such a bright future. Why was it he ruined it? Was there a motive behind all the murders, or was he simply crazy?

Smoke filled the room with each puff the slim woman took, she didn’t care. She was called due to the severity of the situation, the top of her class and the best at her job. Skimming through her notes, she flickered her gaze to the detective.

“He won’t talk to anyone, hm?”

Plucking the cigarette from her lips, it had swiftly been stubbed out atop the cold countertops; a look of discomfort flushed on the detective’s face. The woman fluttered her attention back to the man sitting in the room, it was a humorous sight. One would say it is the treatment a true criminal like he deserves.

“No, Miss. Not yet, that is..”

Her thoughts had trailed off once more, away from her partner’s husky words into silence. There was nothing he could tell her that her notes had not given her, nothing he could say that she could not figure out. The mind was her field of work and study, she knew it well.


Her thoughts were almost a whisper, perhaps she was too focused elsewhere to hear them fully, possibly ignored them the same as the detective. The man.. Murderer sitting within the room was attractive, young and outwardly appeasing. At least, he was to her; the very fact she found him a slight bit handsome left a bitter taste far worse than any smoke could. She contorted her face with disgust while gazing at him, tracing the chilling lines of his skin while delicately glancing up to the wisps of his dark black hair.

This man was a murderer; surely one would think he was crazy, that he was no better than any other sorry excuse she had met before.. But, there was something strange she took in about him. Something that made disgust well deep in her throat..

“Miss Noir! Pay attention, please! Have you forgotten already that the man killed his last psychologist? With a pen at that, it is clear he enjoys harming; all he could simply say after was ‘kill them all’.”

Snapped back into reality, the woman strode with callous clicks of her heels to stand before the steel door into the solitary room, she painted a cruel smile atop her lips.

Could it be the one before she had not been careful, triggered him with bad questions? A psychologist has to find answers they need without asking the questions, they need to sneak. There was something more to this man than a simple bloodthirsty intent, one she would find out. His mind was an egg, and she now craved an omelet.

“No,” She retaliated. “It makes you wonder, doesn’t it? He’s so calm despite the things he’s done. He had a perfect life. He doesn’t appear aggressive, what was his motive to kill the man here before me? The want to? Perhaps, but you don’t know that.”

The detective stood puzzled for a moment at her intentions, not having the chance to answer her questions.

“I will be the one to find out. He hasn’t spoken yet to anyone over the case, yes?”

Still not given the chance to answer, the detective was barely given a glance from the female.

“I guess we’re lucky I am not just anyone, right detective? I succeed where others fail, that is a promise.”

And with those words, smooth and confident, the door had been open and shut firmly behind her rear.


The woman was now within the devil’s den. Her eyes first drifted to his restraints, a strict reminder to indicate who was in charge, before drifting upwards to inspect his face. Unlike before in the glass room, she could now make out the handsome portions he showcased.

Criminal. Remember, criminal. He doesn’t deserve your gaze.

Her lips parted with barely a moment’s hesitation, eyes narrowing ever so slightly at the man. Her challenge to slip into his mind had now just begun.

“Hello, Colton. I am Anastasia Noir; I believe you have time for a chat, right?”
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