They used their hearts
To reel in your memories.
They clenched their hands
Around your body and wrung
Out all the evil spirits.
They listened to your screams
But did not cease,
For fear of loosing you.
They let me sit beside you
With my knees pressed to the hard,
Cold cement.
They hushed me when the flashing
Lights frightened me.
They broke my feeble grasp
On your heart, rushing you into the ambiance.
They calmed me when I noticed the
Deathly clammy texture to your skin and the
Monotone dead line announcing your fate.
But nothing could take away those memories.
Sometimes
Your eyes burst into
Flames
And then Sunday rolls around
And they are dosed in pure water.
Something I can't get my hands on.
A faux so fake that your own
Daughter wasn't stupid enough
To use it.
Sometimes
Your hair turns into
Streams of blue water.
You complain that your hair is always
In your face
Because hair ties aren't of any use.
Elastic doesn't hold water at bay.
Sometimes the top faces of your cheeks
Slowly turn white.
With every passing hour the blood
Flowing through your body
Slows down
Until only a trickle is keeping you alive.
Sometimes I mistake you for a
Mechanical doll.
You're not
Within a hallow oak
Lives a girl shut off from
All humanity.
Lips the hue of apples,
And eyes miles deep.
Down
Down
Down are those retched thoughts.
Behind her facade
Protecting an underwater kingdom
Of murder.
Don't mistake her smile for
The smirk that graced her lips two seconds ago.
Even the most beautiful.
The most innocent can become insane.
Between life and death.
Black and white.
Dawn and night.
Lies a woman wrapped around herself
In the winters cold.
Her voice will be the one singing
At your funeral.
The breath from her throat
Operating your hearse.
Lips as red as blood
To rip the ground o
Where is your heart
Today?
Is it rejoicing to the sound
Of it's own suffocation?
Or dose it throb to be sitting side by side,
Your thigh pressed flush against mine
And the erratic tap dance lessons
Pattering against your ribs.
Because in reality, your ribs are the stage
And your heart,
The tap dancer.
Come sit with me.
There will be no use of syllables or brains,
We don't need those here.
It will only be two people who came into the world
As a whole
And we're never meant to be separated.
For lack of a better phrase, we're two peas in a pod.
Where have your feelings wandered off to
This windy, spring day?
Ha
I am but a glass doll.
My senses have been clipped from the
Circuit breakers dispatching information.
Radio waves cling to the simple
Meaning that I have brown hair
And porcelain features.
So if you say I'm ignorant
And my fingertips can't feel the beating there
When I press my thumb and
Four-finger against my wrist,
Please enlighten me.
Why would my hearts beating patters
Have anything to do with my new-found ignorance?
You pat my hand.
Your hands wear white, musty gloves.
The perfume that hugs the outside wall of your body
Makes the inside of my nose tingle
Like I'm about to sneeze.
But it doesn't come.
Like eve
Moon like white sand-dollars.
A fierce wind storms through,
Turning everything
Backwards and inside-out.
Revolving in pinwheel formations,
Caressing the faces of your cheeks.
It weeps for you.
For your soul.
That purest form of nature
Calling home the inside cavities of
Your heart.
Curls of fire
Caress her skin
Of cream and peaches.
Lips the same hue of a cherries
Heart.
Eyes like embers floating upwards
In the dark sky.
She holds no stronghold on the world,
Yet every heart belongs to her.
Every breath weighted and countered.
Filling her lungs to their greatest
Capacity.
It's amazing how much two little
Pocketfuls of life will do for you.
With a simple flush of burning cheeks,
She walks down an empty lane and holds her hand
Out.
It's like she's imaging someone else's hand
Is clasped with hers,
Rubbing their thumb across the tops of her knuckles.
Maybe this is better than real love.