Poet and fellow reader, Linda,

wrote poetry both during and after her involvement in a psychopathic bond. 

This is the bond as seen through the unique lens of Linda’s personal experience.

Here are her words.

(As I was coming under his enchantment…)


Your hands are beautiful

They are an artist’s hands

They are a magician’s hands

They are a musician’s hands.

I am a canvas

I am an illusion

I am a lute

… play me.

© Linda January 2015


After a period of love-bombing I finally succumbed to his seductive enchantment. I chose to play the game, unaware of the emotional price I would ultimately pay. I tossed aside my scruples and violated some of my boundaries. I never trusted him, I always sensed unknown danger lurking, but the joy I experienced as I said, Yes! I will dance, I will fly, I will play the game, was wonderful. I wrote this poem as if in an ecstatic trance. Looking back, it is no wonder the withdrawal was so devastating. Tasting, and then losing, such rapture was the other side of joy… it was, for a while, black despair.


This is flirtation
This is a dance
Capturing rainbows
Chasing a chance
Dream-dazzled dancers
Sweet little game
Birdsong and windsong
Whisper your name
This is our moment
This is our song
Delicate blend
Of the right and the wrong
These are the lyrics:
Joy and regret
Sung for each other
Our duet. 

© Linda 2015


He said, I have no power over you. (HA!) I answered (below) ~
and then this poem poured out…

“Ahhh my dear one, love is power. It will breach the walls,

disarm the defenders, raise a new banner over the ramparts.

In love there are no losers.”


Onto the field of battle Love comes rollicking,

Flags flying, bright barrels blazing, singing!

Against the high walls, dark with the stones of memory

Love’s trebuchet hurls greater forces, and his arrows fly.

On the battlements the defender trembles, recognizing this,

The shining face of Love, the conqueror.

As the trumpets sound a grand fanfare of joy

A banner with a new imprimatur is raised above the ramparts

And Love stands, gently beckoning: Come forth and claim your prize.

© Linda February 2015


March was hell, having said goodbye to him, but I had found your blog, so I knew I could survive if I would just wait… and I did.



Blessing the echoes

Cursing the void

Walking with ghosts

Memories, shadows

Waiting for ease

While the storms pass

Sunshine is warming

Where is the light?

Resting but ready

To bring back the morning.


© Linda March 2015


During the withdrawal and grief of leaving him, I began toidealize him, this man who had reduced me to emotionalrubble and overturned my life! Fortunately, this phase ofthe journey passed before too long.


While Time works its merciful magic

And Love its alchemy

Transforming razorblades to butter knives

And lies to merely misperceptions

I listen to my heart

Crying for her home

That never was.

© Linda April 2015


Epilogue. Freedom! Reality.



The fantasy of sweet desire
Beguiled me. A Siren’s song
Drew me, dreaming, along.
I wore wings of a fearless flyer.

For those who foolishly aspire
To avoid Love’s debt, think twice:
Love will exact that price
In the flames of refining fire.

© Linda June 2015


I wrote this one just after I went back to him, for one week, in June. I recognized the evil in him then, and I did choose: Freedom!

The goddess Circe warns Odysseus about the dangers he will face at sea. One of these is the Sirens. Odysseus orders his men to stuff their ears with wax to drown out the lovely voices, and tie him to a mast so he can’t escape, but can still hear them singing. He orders them to kill him if he should break his bonds.



Listen Odysseus! Hear the sirens’ song
Calling to your deep desires
Lighting primal fires
Be strong!

Heed now Odysseus, what the others tell:
Here are dangers more intense
Than your best defense
Can quell.

See you, Odysseus, in this cursed strait
Hidden in seduction sweet
Is the moment you shall meet
Your fate.

Choose well Odysseus, tethered to the bow,
Between your freedom, or a chain
Forged from pleasure’s pain.
Speak now!

© Linda June 2015

And this is the last one I wrote about the journey…



Conjurer. Enchanter. False.
Sweet seductive stiletto
To the heart,
Playing adolescent games
With adult consequences.
Move on, Magician –
This space is taken.

© Linda July 2015


As I parted from him for the last time I became a victor, not a victim,
my totem transformed from a unicorn to a dragon, a member of the
Sisterhood of Survivors, wiser, stronger and free. But the echos…
the echos…



You thought that you had found in me
A lamb with trusting eyes
But you had found a dragon
In disguise.

I thought that I had found the wings
To let me fly again
But I had found a dark abyss,
A demon’s den.

I stayed until the truth came clear
And my heart cried in pain
And, to defend myself, I rose
To fight again.

Now I am left with wishes and
A wistful little dream
I accept that things may not
Be as they seem.

My fires are banked, I rest alone
I know sweet peace, but still
I dream of flying… and perhaps
I always will. 

© Linda August 2015


Who are we? The Other artists. Our canvas is the page, our pigments, words. The Word Weavers:
the Bards, the Troubadours, the Bohemians and the Beats, Homer and Whitman, Frost and Millay…
anyone who sings your song. The poets.


Love me and I will sing words

Primal, ageless

Beauty scarred,

Scars made beautiful.

Cut me and I will bleed words

Some sweet as wild honey

Some salt in your wounds,

Razor blades, diamonds, fire.

Dare to taste my words

Lover, enemy or friend,

A song for you

Set to your own music.

© Linda 2015
I saw a Kestrel, the beautiful little hawk that plies our skies in the North East,
swooping and swirling on the wind of an autumn day. I saw the personification
of freedom in his joyous flight. He seemed to be flying just for sheer pleasure!
I wanted very much to join him up there, but I could only write a poem for him.


Engraving arabesques into the autumn air
A kestrel files a flight plan, where
Both food and frolic wait to whet
His appetite for flash and flair
Above the earth, beyond regret.
Fierce and fearless, wing-wise, unaware
Of risks that threaten all who dare
To challenge standards often set
By those who lack the Savior Faire
Required to work without a net.

© Linda ~ 1994

♥ Thank you, Linda, for so generously sharing your powerful poetry with us.

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3 thoughts on “SOUL SONGS”

  1. Christine

    I just found this site today and yours is the first thing I’ve read.

    Though my heart is broken, it is still alive and it aches for you and all others who have experienced loving a psychopath. We are all bonded by this life changing relationship. Seven years away from a 6 year journey into Hell and I still ache. I will forever have hope. The most important thing I do know is that this is better than the alternative of still being with him.

    I applaud you. Your writing is beautiful. Thank you for sharing.

    1. Adelyn Birch

      Thank you, Christine. I will let Linda, the author of these poems, know that your comment is here. I hope you’ll find more on this site that’s meaningful for you. I wish you all the best.

    2. Linda

      Christine, thank you for your kind words. One of the unintended gifts that the psychopath left with me when I ended the relationship was this series of poems commemorating my time with him, and also a new strength and sense of my own value. As I read Adelyn’s pages on the blog, a wealth of wisdom born of pain and developed through meticulous research and personal experience, I found the courage to break free from the psychopathic bond and live more completely than ever before. Such is the irony of our time with a psychopath: We begin as victims and become victors, grateful for our freedom and new-found power. Read the pages here Christine… I promise you can find freedom and power too!

Comments are closed.