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ENGLISH LANGUAGE by lombregrise

Treasured Literature by LadyLincoln

Literature by FadingGrin

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Submitted on
June 19, 2013
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83 (who?)
I am not enchanted.

The dreams come
but they are not dreams at all
and I am not asleep.

Your hand sliding up my thigh
and your groan slicks itself onto my neck,
embeds itself into my skin.

I wear the remnants
of your ecstasy in my flesh still.
It crawls when any other nears it.

It came to be that your bed-side clock
replaced my fearful heartbeat
as I laid in stasis and hoped -

for a passing; of time, of fingers, of life.
I cannot sleep with ticking in my ear anymore
I don't think of time running out, but of paralysis.

I think of lapses of concentration,
of tongues,
of temperaments.

I think of those slow burning moments
that stretched out longer than I wanted
and lasted longer still. I think of the tears.

I am not enchanted.

The days pass
but they are not days at all
and I am not awake.

I am pacified by the numbness
of lobe or cortex that controls memory,
a self imposed strike out against you,

a strike my hand should have made.
Regret is buried
six feet beneath my fingernails.

Every time I tell someone I love them
I hear my soprano voice stuttering,

I recall luring you to sleep with those words,
over and over, and when it was safe
I would run down the spiral staircase in the tower.

I admit I sipped from china cups
and daintily impersonated an adult.
I thought I could handle love, loving.

The rag-dolls watched, wide eyed and horrified,
as my bravado fell flat. As I fell flat.
As we fell, and I flatly refused.

As I clenched my jaw, the same jaw I will always bear.
As I crushed my eyes shut,
the same eyes that will always burn with shame.

As I dug my nails through the sheets.
The nails are gone, I bit them til they bled.

I suspect the sheets are gone too,
a destroyed relic of a squirming, weeping, spurting love-
-what I thought was love then- but even so,

I was never enchanted.
IMPORTANT: I absolutely must give huge credit to *swansisters who's poem I am not enchanted begins;
I am not enchanted
The dreams came but they weren’t dreams
I was awake

it gave me a whole new way of trying to express this thing that happened to me and I had to run with it and she so so so graciously allowed me to steal these lines and rip them into something new - so thank you. The original poem (that she wrote) is so beautiful and much shorter than mine so go check it out, do!

I'm sorry this is so long... but ten years is a long time to bottle something up and it's only just starting to let me write about it. Forgivesies?

♥ Kathryn O'Driscoll © 2013

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Spellbound; you have certainly cast me under a spell of your beautiful words and bound me there in awe. I am so sorry for the pain that you have gone through; but I am so in love with the fact that you were strong enough to get not let it get to you and make it fuel your art and create a gripping poem such as this.

When I read this I think of abuse, rape, horrible situations of manipulation, incarceration both emotionally and physically, betrayal and extreme hurt-but what is brilliant is how you put these ideas across to me subtly and use the softest, yet strongest metaphors; for example 'and when it was safe/I would run down the spiral staircase in the tower'. This gave me the idea of you having been imprisoned emotionally and physically in a relationship, and this has been compared to a fairy tale like setting, making it seem as if even then during the horrible situation, it didn't seem like reality, only a nightmare.

Wonderful wonderful wonderful poem. I really adore this, it has to be one of the strongest, most emotional pieces I have come across in a while. I actually can not find anything that I would want to change. Well done, and I admire your strength in having the courage to share your experiences with complete strangers.
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Sammur-amat Featured By Owner Jul 21, 2013   General Artist
*sighs heavily then holds your hand* :huggle: <3
BloodshotInk Featured By Owner Jul 24, 2013
Thank you angel ♥
Sammur-amat Featured By Owner Sep 27, 2013   General Artist
:tighthug: :heart: :heart: :heart:
MistressofQuills Featured By Owner Jul 18, 2013  Student Writer
I think that time can often be the best medium through which we come to understand our pain. "A long time" means there's lots of words, too... and coming from you, that's a good thing:heart:
BloodshotInk Featured By Owner Jul 19, 2013
nods, thank you. I've been upset lately because of some of the comments on Shiver (different poem about same event). People being ... aroused... it's distressing :[
MistressofQuills Featured By Owner Jul 19, 2013  Student Writer
Yeesh.....well if makes you feel any better, I certainly had no reaction like that.....horror was a good way to tag it in my opinion. People are just odd:shrug: And yes, distressing is a great way to describe that:P
BloodshotInk Featured By Owner Jul 19, 2013
Nods :[
MistressofQuills Featured By Owner Jul 19, 2013  Student Writer
Sympathy emoticon 
MeredyxD Featured By Owner Jul 6, 2013  Hobbyist
I'm not sure if it is a good thing for the reader to find pieces of themselves in the poems they read.. But i found myself in the lines "Every time I tell someone I love them I hear my soprano voice stuttering, breaking." ..

It is a beautiful poem<3 Don't worry about it being long, it doesn't take the beauty away<3 I think it's great that you're telling what you feel and have kept inside for so long yet still manage to do it in a beautiful, artistic way<3 i love your style of writing so much, it's very unique and meaningful.
BloodshotInk Featured By Owner Jul 8, 2013
:tighthug: Thank you so much, for your support of the piece but also of me. 
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