Invisible heavy shackles wrapped around her wrists; cuffs.

Led by the Head of the Demons himself.

She might be detained, but the chains are loose, as if she has her freedom but her body refuses to follow anyone but him.

Any physical torture? No. Any physical anything? Barely – that’s the problem, she thought.

Ever heard of someone who was held captive and wanted to beg their captor to pull that chain so they’d be closer?

This is not a case of Stockholm syndrome, for she was the one who turned herself in to sacrifice her own soul.

He took her in, thinking she could entertain him for a while, but she was persistent, and he let her go.

“Why?”, she asked, “I don’t understand”.

And you don’t need to. All you need to do is leave. There is no place here for a good-for-nothing vessel who’s soul I have already devoured. Your role here is done.” he replied with no hesitation.

“At least a part of me resides within you, somewhere, lingering, when I physically could not.” she smiled and turned around.

Invisible cuffs, chains that extended vastly, and an unbreakable bond that she couldn’t sever, hoping one day he’d close this distance that she hated so much.

Hope? With a demon, eh? Ah, well I guess that’s my punishment for the sin I’ve committed, she thought,

I fed a demon. I fell in love with one so shamelessly. I still refuse to cut off the only thing that ties me to him. This is my atonement, living through this hell of a life without him, a million miles away. 


I hold onto you

like I’m holding onto thin air; impossible to grasp.

I try to contain you in a glassed bottle

to find you leaking at the bottom.

I breathe you in and refuse to exhale,

but suffocation snaps me back to reality.

Do I have to spell it out for you?

– How I desperately ache for the physical version of you?

– How I yearn for that skin of yours?

Do I have to beg you for your touch?

Do I have to show you the weak vessel I have become in exchange for the love I still have for you?


Flames of lust and desire,.

Ashes of rage and wrath.

You held me within your grasp;

Your hands comforting me with such a warm embrace.

Your soft touch like a tickle at the back of my neck.

Seducing me with those lips,

As I run out of patience,

Drawing you closer,

Quenching your thirst,

As you fill my emptiness with your satisfaction.

And after you take the last sip – what is left of me –

I hear you give out the sweetest sound of pleasure,

And I am content at last.

Coffee by 7ala Abdullah

Riyadh Writing Club

I want you fire-eyed, helpless,
and passion-driven.
I want you irrational and guilt-stricken.
I want you spiteful,
I want you going, coming, and running.
I want you heaving, shoving, screaming, sighing,
pulling, pushing, laughing, lying.
I want you holding my face in the palms of
your hands and crying
    I don’t want to want you,
    but I really do.
I want that fire in your eyes to
turn a dull shade of blue
every time you get your saddened hands to
wave good-bye.
I want you finding that weak spot
on my shoulder without having to try
and giggling like a child
on a sugar high,
I want to kiss away your shy side
until darkness
is no longer necessary
for you and I
to lock eyes.
My blinding light,
I want you toes curling
and tongue-tied,
I want you realizing
I’ve set your vocal chords

View original post 348 more words

Reflection: Heartless, eh?

Heartless, eh?Is that how you see me?

Ah, well, you were always the victim, weren’t you?

The one suffering, the one in pain, the innocent one – all you.

The one who lost the only love, the only hope in this cruel world – you.

The one with the broken heart – you.

The one who is so torn that couldn’t hate the only love you had, even after two years – you.

You ask me to return your call, and I answer with silence – heartless, eh?

You ask me to fill the hole that I presumably made, even though that hole was there before you even met me – heartless, eh?

You ask me to wrap you, fold you, cherish you, just like I once did, and when I asked you then to unwrap yourself, you told me no that this is the person you are, that the personality you had wasn’t big news. Even though I changed my ways for your own taste, and when I changed back to the person I am, I was called… heartless, eh?

You, the one who let me shut myself from the world just to focus on your love and let me crush to pieces and breakdown, – heartless, eh? Oh, wait, you did not notice that I was breaking down, did you?

You ask me to defy oka-san just to make you feel better – who’s heartless, eh?

You ask me to disregard that what we may have has no real ending, to ignore the fact that there are consequences, to forget Kami-sama’s orders – who’s heartless again?

Ah, I’m the heartless one, no?

Since I’m heartless, please shut the fuck up and leave.

Don’t burn me alive like you once did, with clear invisible flames, no one could see them except me.

Marks still exist, only for my eyes to see. The pain still lingers like an annoying child that won’t leave his mother.

I can endure anything that comes from that selfish mind of yours, but taking the blame for your suffering is something I will never accept.

You are a selfish son of a bitch that will only think about your happiness solely and disregard mine.

I will not settle for this shit anymore.

Take responsibility for your own pain. Stop dragging other people with you. Stop drowning me with all of this guilt.

Even if you couldn’t hate me. I’ll tell you this. I do. I hate that you don’t recognise the shit you caused. So oblivious. Ignorant.

I hate how selfishly you speak. You have even become more selfish than before, why am I even surprised.

But yeah, going back to that remark of yours, I am heartless, I gave my heart away – oh, but I didn’t give it away to you..

My heart is distributed to all the people I have loved and love, except you.

The human flowerbed.

She leaped into the core of an efflorescence.

The point at which her toes touched the damp soil,

pastel light shone, whirling around her limbs,

spiralling around her fragile body.

Leaves covering her entirely like a bed sheet.

Thorns piercing her skin for stability.

Lilies fixated on her chest just above her heart,

maintaining its virginity, its purity;

Surrounded by sweet violet Hydrangea,

to provide or steal away strength

for all the heartfelt emotions.

White Gardenia circling the neck and shoulder blades,

for the rich sweetness of hidden affection.

Eloquence is the Iris’ obligation,

outlining the lips,

and blossoming out of her mouth;

purple for wisdom

blue for faith

and yellow for passion,

all of which are the Iris’ duties.

Lavender Heathers filling her beautiful mind,

the origin of her beauty and sensibility.

White Heathers coursing in her limbs for protection,

and for good luck when dreams convert to reality.

Running down her back to her behind are long-lasting Orchids,

to maintain pride, refined taste, luxury and perfection.

A masterpiece, she has become.

So delicately structured.

So dangerous and rare.

A flowerbed that breathed in life.

A human flowerbed, that is.

Flowers; People

She hated flowers.

There were too many types, colors, shapes to comprehend.

Too many names.

Too many meanings; some hold multiple interpretations.

They eventually die too,

even if you take care of them, cherish them.. they wilt and wither.

But even when they die, they look beautiful;

Dark, defined feature.

She hated flowers.

People and flowers are alike.

Take shelter in the darkness.

The sadness swept in

like the wind in a lonely night,

peaking through the holes

of the broken windows

and moulded walls,

bringing in the cold and dirt.

Despair shined in

like a curious torch,

looking for treasure and goods,

but only to find ruins and unwanted fragments

of an abandoned heart.

Wrap yourself in the shadows. 

Take shelter in the darkness.

Shut your eyes and cover your ears. 

Let the dusky air shun away the world

that left you behind.


Abandonment looks beautiful. 



An old mansion still stands 

At the midst of a growing forest.

Camouflaged between the tall greenery.

A new roof of leaves and blossomed flowers.

Nourished by the souls that once called it home.

Dusty and shadowed from the inside.

Broken and unsafe are the floors and stairs.

Windows and the walls seem alike, smudged with memories.

New bushes covering the foot prints that once existed.

Unused, this land has become.


But it survives.

It survives to maintain the memories that were painted carefully by the souls that it derives life from.

Abandonment is glorious. 

Abandonment is the name of the mansion.