Author Archives: angelicdarkness70



We ran into each other today,

obeyed the universe in it’s

special way….

You loomed over me

in bluesy blooms and

I just wanted to stay in

your presence, just a little

while longer….

I wished I could have

stealed a kiss, just become

reckless, restless….

I would glow in pink just for

you, if you had a clue….

But, do you, deep down know

I’m drawn to you…. Like a

star to night, hoping not to

fall, but, if I do, will earth

catch me?

I just want to forget time

and space, just you and I,

sitting in silence, finishing

each others sentences sitting

at a picnic table before God so

we can finish our story……

Colors had finally died, lied, made

me think, blink in ghostly breaths,


I laid ashen and blush, everything hush,

pale, and upon me You climb,

snowing, exploding….

Skin on skin, open, gaped in blurry


I quiver, shiver as you lick the

folds of Spring away…..




I’m in love with something dead, in my head….

I convinced myself on bookshelves I wasn’t

in love on golf clubs,  but, yes,  after you passed,

cast aside, hard, cold,  crumbled in ash, my

heart stashed, this was the final good bye

to souls lost, found on the other side, dyed

in smudges and judges, my only hope

for you is that you find a different

heart from the start, a Valentine to

drape you in red, to open up that

box, and you let HER in just because

she wasn’t me, never was, and now

I know because I let you go…….




Hands withered, worn, tear, repeat, beat my skin

as they live in sin…

Why me, can’t they see, let me be, just a child,

wild, just one second from the rope, loss of

hope, nope, there were other plans for me

you see…..

A  baby, I will never see grow, seeds that

will never breed, bleed out the mothers

womb, tomb…..

Bars behind, in line, black and white to

keep quiet….

Fists clenched, drenched, murder on hands,

death trying to catch my breath, but, again,

not my time in rhyme….

Life on track, SHE has my back, my story

isn’t over, my four leaf clover……..




He makes me sore, through my pores, and i want


Pushing my limits, always and more, to my core….

My dark muse brought to life, like a knife he splits,

becomes apart of me, my only plea….

He’s kissed every inch, pinched, leaving

his mark till we part…..

I love feeling him the next morning,

his smell still inside me, sore, till

i want more…..


Past the backdoor to the front, on knees, nose to doorbell,

my soul sealed, done deal…..

Sucking my feet, trick or treat….

In your warmth I can be found when no ones


Teeth on nipple and I ripple, pushing me just

a little bit more, your little whore….

Spanks ass, breaking me like glass,

and I submiss, only with a kiss, as it

slips between my reds…..

Nails on back, sublime cracks to let you


Hair in hands, every strand gold, bold

as you control……

You nudge, shove, inside, out, making

me drought, until your mouth is

there again…..water me……


Slow kisses turned into bruising hisses….

Nooks and crannies explored, I adored….

Flesh laid open, and you indulge, drinking

until I drown,  now your crown…..

Trails, marks you leave, Believe on my wrist,

leaving me in a mist….

Now, you are gone, but, I still feel you,

your scent in my veins, chains me…to…you

Pulsing, your scent, forever within me, the

key that always was, in waves of 19, as angels

tell a tale of you and I…….




We whirled, twirled under the world, breath taken,

never debating it was you all along under the stars…..synchronicity….




Lost split, twins dismissed….

One in heaven, the other in hell, didn’t

kiss and tell…

I loved you then, and I love you

know, shall we make a truce our

one vow?

I, was never vanilla…..

more like shadowy greys,

pondering disarrays….

You, with a funeral glow, death

in tow….

I, drawn, walking on the edge, you with

a razor, how my skin would slice, dice,

as you pieced me to you…..

Together we became halos and

horns, the cross adorned…..

*Picture taken from Pinterest*


Luke Atkins

Film, Music, and Television Critic

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. . .can you imagine?

During the days in which I choose to conform, I do so with a specific feeling in mind that I want to achieve. A sort of climax that I aim to reach. A feeling effortlessly maintained between the ages of 6-9 and again between the ages of 13-15, when being a girl was simply one of the numerous ways of being.


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Paranormal Author, Artist & Empath. Follow Sheila on Twitter, Facebook & Instagram! @sheilareneeparker