Old poems from four years ago

she's simply a blank feeling
a fit when she's teased
a flirt when she likes what she sees
she is still in the day
and still in the night
her spirit is the flame of a small candlelight
she is gentle but not kind
acts on behalf of her pride
which she'll abandon for a free ride
she is pleasing to the eye
and to the ear, satisfactory
her eyes are looking into nothing constantly
more than self-conscious-- self-obsessed
a curse bestowed on her since she was little
that to this day haunts her still
her personality is bland
it is peppered with no spices
it has endured no crisis
her [CAN'T READ HANDWRITING] forces you to embrace her when she cries
kiss her and say it'll be all right
when she'll only reply 'it might'
ironic but true
yet completely irrelevant to your life
you can't have her, but you can take the knife
press it to your wrists and forget her
she'll never know you exist
she is but a life of twist
♠ ♠ ♠
Are you confused? I am.
I was looking through some old notebooks in my garage since I moved lately, and found this along with some other stuff. Sorry about the handwriting thing, all I know is:

-it starts with an m
-it appears to end with an x
-I don't know how many vowels there are but there at least two e's (one towards the beginning of the word and one towards the end)

If you can figure it out, congratulations.