My Reaper

My Reaper,

XXXXX XXXXXXXXX.

07/28/25

Song Created By: Drusilla U.

"This isn’t a masterpiece. It’s just my heart on a platter.

I don’t miss you. I always knew you weren’t enough.

You were agonizing -- excruciatingly not enough.

Still, I hope one day someone cherishes you almost as much as I did.

Because every poem I wrote, every song I sang,

You were the muse behind it all.

You taught me what 'love' is.

Now I see it as a sickening game of who torments who.

Who kills who.

Love to me is the spilling of blood.

Oh, how much blood we spilled, reaper."

My world, how could you toy with my heart?

Pretending each and every day.
The emotions become plastic, scary, and I just avoid them.
When I think of you, tears begin to stream.
I didn’t mean for it
Just the thought of you makes me cry.

How could you discard my heart like a cheap plaything?

The very heart that warmed you all those nights...

The heart that gave meaning to your soul.

My reaper, my cruel killer.

Your love coils around my neck like a noose.

(A vengeful cord full of spite…)

Did you only want me for how I loved you so helplessly?

You stole my life like a toy

Told me to die

With those tired, naïve eyes... so recklessly cruel.

Did I burn you too much with my touch?
Did you get tired of the scorches on your bodies?
Still, weakly, feebly, I live on with this burning fire in me,
Failing to forget your name,
Wishing I could, every day
Erase you from my heart.

The smell of you,
The sight of you,
Your eyes in my mind
They penetrate my soul.
Paralyzing me.
The reminder leaves me shaking and choking.

My reaper, my cruel killer.
Your love coils around my neck like a noose.
Did you only want me for how I loved you so helplessly?
You stole my life like a toy,
Told me to die
With those tired, naïve eyes... so recklessly cruel.

You aren’t a warm memory.
You were a reaper. 

My reaper.
Trading my life,
Stealing my light,
Ripping it away with your smile.
Why’s there no one else as beautiful
As my reaper?

You betrayed me.
You betrayed our promises.
Your own words.
You betrayed the dream we had at 13 of our future.
So utterly in love, how naïve it was...
A children’s imagination.

Reaper, my reaper.
You wanted to save me,
Congratulations.

You destroyed my heart.
You stole it
Like a cheap, disposable toy.

And left me with this fire in me
That only burns me.

Julia's Eyes

 Her Eyes

07/28/25

Collage & Short Story Created By: Drusilla U.

*Every Collage Has a Meaning Behind Each Image In It. Everything is Tied Together.

**

(Author's Note) A/N: 

Since I was little I was often told I have black pearls for eyes or “boba” eyes, black as night and round. I wrote this in 10 minutes on a 7 hour bus ride back to Gainesville. I thought – what do I want at this very moment? I wanted a hug, honestly. I wanted someone to see me for me, to want me. To look into my eyes and know all that was without me having to talk their ear off. Just to know and to hold me. I think everyone wishes for that. Silent compassion and knowing. So this is a short little comfort story to those of you who wish to be seen. Truly seen for who you are. Without having to talk to a person who looks away constantly and doesn’t seem to care one bit about who you are. “What did you say?” 

No, none of that.

Right now, you are Julia. Regardless of your gender, identity, or anything. You are seen, you are understood, and you are adored.

And to those of you with light-colored eyes, your eyes are just as beautiful if not more.

.

.

The Second Entry.

 

Entry 2. 

                                                 Photographed & Short Story By: Drusilla U. 

Late Bloomer.

07/17/25

The Late Bloomer.

That’s the word alright. Somehow as I sit in this skating rink for the very first time in my life, stilled by the fear coursing through my veins, immense sadness overtakes me. I watch children as young as five skate wildly, defying fear, slipping and falling with wide grins spread across their youthful faces. 

I just think to myself: “Survival of the fittest.”

Natural selection?

Here at eighteen I cling to the wall fearfully, those around me bursting into an airy and easygoing laughter as I (terrified) smile in return. Why don’t I feel alive? I wish I had been a carefree child, scratching up my knees, bloody, and wild. I would’ve died an early death had I been so carefree. Tried to swim alone at seven - almost drowned. I feel so behind. Physically. It’s never bothered me before, I wonder what makes it feel so wrong now? I can’t swim, nor ride a bike, heaven forbid I rollerblade or skate. Nothing at all. But my body handles bruises and beatings well, punch me twice and I’ll get back up with a smile and flame lit inside me. That. That is the most familiar feeling to me. 

Yet, Nevertheless

Still. A Late Bloomer.

No kiss, no date, no nothing. I’m nearly eighteen yet still twelve. I feel like currently I am trying to squeeze eight years of a life I missed out on in the time span of two measly months. Is it pathetic? Brave? Impulsive? I fear I know not what to name it. All I recall is being twelve and skating on ice for the first time as I stand in this skating rink. The memory is so clear and near. I’m twelve again as I stand here in the body of an eighteen year old confused girl. Fuck. Have I always been twelve? Stuck in time. I wonder. 

I’m scared, truthfully.

I have to admit it to myself. 

I’m terrified.

Fucking.

Terrified.

I’m growing up backwards. It sounds forbidden to admit.

But I have always lived life afraid that I can’t physically feel any longer.

I’m unattached to life. This life.

I use emotions to remind myself I am in fact alive.

I am attached to my emotions, my feelings, sometimes it’s the only thing that feels real to me.

...

You are The Star.

The Fucking Star. 

A thousand degrees Fahrenheit.

Flaming.

Skin-meltingly-fucking-hot.

Dashing violently through the sky.

Leaving fire wherever you go.

The First Entry.

     "We have modernized yet regressed into animals. We are the least human we have ever been in a long time." -Drusilla Ugolini, 2025

One Day You'll Become A Beautiful Bouquet.

Even if Now You Aren't Even Half of that.