Just a Girl Lost 2

Just a girl lost~ Here I share bits & pieces of me, in poetry, prose, music & posts from writers who inspire me.


What is the purpose in exposing to strangers what was once held sacred?


There is something disgusting and distasteful in those waxing poetic and nostalgic over a past lover who’s not always an anonymous stranger to others.

There is something unsettling when hidden details & word for word intimate moments are vomited out onto the masses

One betrays the trust of another in poems claiming to pledge eternal adoration

when Twitter and Blogs become a peep show into a private world once reserved for two

There is something putrid and nauseating about knowing all the naked poses and naked whispers and naked promises talked of, texted, salivated over in a relationship long since passed

A heavenly river turned toxic filth when gushed from the tongue of only one, not the other

It is confounding and contemptible to see a past lover’s words being whored out for public consumption

What is the purpose in exposing to strangers what should always be held sacred?

I see no reason to rehash a diary of private moments dead and buried other than to evoke envy or pain or to progress a selfish, desperate agenda

It seems to be nothing more than petty games played by a petty heart

Graceless, classless, and crass with zero respect for another’s moving on

Why would anyone knowingly defile beautiful whispers shared about someone they claim to still love?

I suppose only the sad souls doing it can ever answer those questions

I do know, without doubt,  I will never lower myself to swim in that cesspool of sirens

They represent the worst in all women

On every level they desecrate the poetry of love





I Don’t Have All the Words


I don’t hold

all the words,

but I wish I did


I feel them screaming

beneath my skin


Rememberings of me


I learned how


shut up

shut out

shut down


forget I existed


That is the past


as God is my witness

it will hurt me never again





*top image: Sergei Sviatchenko

*bottom image: Allison Rathan


She was never a friend



My soul executioner

She sucked the marrow from my bones

She turned me living to dead


She was simply a vampire

who got off on the sweet blood I bled

She was never a friend


She is merely a phantom of what love truly is

She’s just a ghost eating fucked up feelings,

that she vomits out and calls zen


I suppose that’s what some call poetry

I don’t now, but I did then


She was always a writer I admired

She was nothing true in the end

She was never a friend


©justagirllost2 ~Monique

*image: Waiting For Cinderella by Rickbwi on deviantart.com


Tawdry Hearts



A fetish for pretty minds
He captured with his eyes

Happily chained in darkness
by their devotion blind

Puppets swinging on meathook candy canes

Betraying betrayers always his favorite game

He got off on crushing
tawdry hearts without shame





*art by Kassandra