The End.

My lighthouse has guided you through your darkest nights. Even when dim I have always been alight. Yet that has never sufficed, alas my love it is now time to turn off my light.

I hum your favourite lullaby for the final time as I close the gates of our white picket fence. Nostalgia sighs, what wonderful play dates we had during our time, in this secret garden of mine.

Fatigue and I lay side by side reminiscing the nights spent by your side; snoring and conversations to last a lifetime.

I have replenished your scars with my lips and etched fine poetry across your skin with every kiss. An artist who has completed her favourite masterpiece, never moving on to the next.

And if you ever ask yourself ‘who will replace my Sun?’ remind yourself of the days you went by without looking up at the sky, only remembering my importance and yearning for me during the nights.

This piece signifies the end of a chapter, the end of a collection. I have compiled little hints and extracts from all my recent pieces.


I opened my legs for disrespect to slither inbetween them.
I laid on a bed that wasn’t my own, to be spoken to like I have no home.
I gave away my most precious gift to give a man a sense of possession.
But all this did was teach me a lesson; I am a whore, I am a whore.
No matter what I wore or however much I swore to the almighty lord, he thinks I am nothing but a whore.