banned 2

Slayer, dragon player
he nosedived into my forest
serpent-tongued at twilight, writhing into my mist. He made me moan
then slew me
upon his ungainly, ugly sword
cliched, but he pulled me apart
my man, become a mantis

my tears, he licked away
together we were wicked, doomed each aching night
I murmured no. In each glimmer he told me curtly that
he owned me, skin and all

in his thrall, I was his unconquerable
his breathing, bleeding quest to bed,
his impassioned hunt.
For him,
for that absurd and drivelling cunt
I planned a marriage
making pretend, faint-hearted vows to a demon in sheep’s clothing

until, at last
scathing and hellbent, I’d dream in
blades and razors, unsheath
and stop the inevitable fall,
or I’d
recoil and
pull the trigger, wishing to
raze our conjoined shadow to the
bitter, black and blue ground

giddy and crowned, dancing in the flame. I was a woman triumphant, vengeful but alas – unreal
choosing instead his abyss
and the self-sabotaging obliteration
of my soul, though

each tear, each wound
unwound my longing. An eternity, an infinity of this headfuck happiness
that I called life
crawled away

goodbye Heaven
hello, Hell

but strong girls cannot be broken
or stung by the pricks of men who tell lies about love. My sweetheart,
pitiful and clutching like a baby to a long-dry
deadened nipple, was
no longer a devil. He was not worthy of my pain, again.

You know the rest. How I escaped,
to sultry far Eastern shores. In that
searing and golden heat
I unbent
and unfurled wings I did not know I had, or needed

and became immune to thou
resistant to thee, gleeful
I promised nevermore, no more, no more
I quoth, it was my mantra
for him, no more. I was a-flutter on a Chinese breeze, unbound
to playboy knights who fucked girls called Jennifer or Melody, and blamed it all on “passion”

I bet you heard as I laughed
watching him burn;
his putty-soft, pathetic face attuned to an abusive and expletive song. I was long gone, above the bonfire
on an aeroplane splitting a new path between sky and earth
enroute to who knew what, but
committed to sin and hoping for
rebirth.

No mystery that his emails
and ugly letters persisted. I sipped a cocktail as he promised death- his own, smiled to imagine him scrabble
and sift through the sands of time
to figure out what went wrong, but

his obsession stayed strong
I was ice; untouchable. Unpenetrable,
glacial
finally, firmly in control. I giggled and spat technicolor deaththreats
against his black and white heartache

no more the fire of his fantasy
I saw him as
the grasping, paper-thin silhouette
every eye but mine could see.

Abetted by air miles
he became a mere, decreasing shimmer on a raging iron sea, to me.
Certainly, my heart would go on;
sorry Celine, but my desire was culled and I was easy

revelling in the awesome,
awe-inspiring feeling of fucking
wrapping my loins around
other men, anyone
as long as it wasn’t him. My road
was uncertain,
carved out next to
wood and waterfall in that

pure, breathtaking
summer of travel and meaningless, mindblowing sex with strangers.
In it, poetry. Sometimes
glowing with
another man’s sweat, I’d lie
back with a cigarette and think
about how surreal it all was
I’d left, I’d actually gone and went
and left

there was something spiritual
in the thunder of their thrusts, the beat of tomtom fists upon bare backs
made me a creative. No
foulness from him could cloud or pour acid upon the bloom
of my unrepentant flower. Oh, the power

of being barefoot on spring grass and autumn leaf. My mind was blown with the sour-sweetness
of gale-force joy, an uncompromised world withstanding the gloom of
his Death. I was affirmed;
his scythe could not behead my sparkle, after all.

In the kindness of three winters
his ultraviolence turned sepia, browned but not forgotten.
There will be no snow here as there was with him,
there will be no crunch of my bones
ground to dust as we fucked
to hide our flowing
recriminations
no more pulsating accusations
or knuckles bruised for brainless reasons. I am
spared

and this is my calling card;
the shards of my private odyssey
have cut you deep, I know

as for me?
I am war-dancing and
your blood is as bright to me
as lightening.

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About fiercemissc

Twenty-something Geordie girl living and working in Hong Kong. Young, free and single and making the most of it.
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