Jar of Hearts

And she cried

For the hundredth time

The frays of silver thread, thinning.

And she knew no other love.

Then the anguish that kept winning.

And she held on tight to the last of them.

Isolating her heart

Time was taking hold of her.

And ripping her apart.

For the man that was, but never was

Lay dormant in the shadows

And she fought to find the answers.

With juxta love imposed



Puppetmaster pulls strings.

Dangles all the carrots.

Sits upon his pedestal

And judges on her merits.

Sweet is the taste that bleeds.

She’s everything but nothing.

Abandonment that feeds

The sadist she is worshipping.



And the darkness is what makes me.

And my pain is for his taking.

And I embrace and let him taste me.

Until I can’t stop breaking.



The Sadist and The Masochist

Together they exist

The shattered and The glorified

No secrets

Left to hide



Take the blade, sharpen it.

Cut her healing scars.

Dirty knees. She begs. Submits

To join your, Jar of Hearts.





Copyright © 2019 T.C. Holls 280219S008