Mystic River

A collection of poems, love letters, and the occasional note.

  • Pre-Submissive

    Pre-Submissive

    When I think about being a submissive, I can’t ignore all the hardships it took for me to feel comfortable submitting in the first place. For the longest time I was alone, fighting for my survival and acceptance with no one else to lean on. It was a hard life being so independent from such… Read more

  • Un-toxic Hyper-independence

    Un-toxic Hyper-independence

    Have you ever felt lost without knowing you were lost? Days seem to pass in too much of a blur and it takes everything from you just to make it through all 14 hours or so of the day. Your mind is a never ending checklist as you complete tasks here and there. As you… Read more

  • Be the bigger person

    Be the bigger person

    Outwardly I feel a cold stillness. An icy calm locks my body into place keeping the explosion inside contained   Inside there is a storm of fire and smoke raging. Battle cries and terrible screams ring through me I feel I am the battle grounds of hell itself within Yet I sit quietly and drive … Read more

  • I hate how good it feels.

    I hate how good it feels.

    I must truly be a masochist the way I want to run back to those hands. The temptation is a living thing which wraps around my body in a hot embrace Those hands that grip my waist and feel like fire on my skin Like magnets connecting our bodies, every time he pulls away slightly… Read more

  • Unrequited Love

    Unrequited Love

    Best read while listening to Adagio for strings, Op. 11. I wonder if he knows  That every time I say goodbye I intend for it to be the last  That I leave with steel in my back  But always return with my eyes on my feet watching every step I take backwards  I wonder if… Read more

  • Three Years of Solitude

    Three Years of Solitude

    Solitude changes us. We never get a pick in the type of solitude we endure, only how we respond to it. I could be fighting like hell to hold onto that person I was before entering solitude. Three years… Three fucking years and I was going in circles; repeating the same viscous cycle over and… Read more