I wince between dancers of the gothic glamour
bathed in bodies I have never met
and we scream in unison a guilty pleasure,
feeding a poetic laugh.
I flow past eyes that will never see me and capture breaths I will never have.
But I live this everafter
After a world of great disaster.
And so you tap your chisled-tipped words on chalkboard like a metronome mouth piece. I time the words of betrayal. Right on time.
Pin the warmth between the sheets
Missing him will all it’ll ever be
Daylight shadows cover me in all the forms of fleeting time
from hours I can’t leave my mind
In bed and shook and slaughting rhyme
Of what I could have done to keep him mine.
Endless movement of her mind
Sets traps of every kind
Watch your step and bend your back
Remember all her world’s off track.
Charged with murder of my own heart,
Howling for a moment more
Before I eat it and forever starve.
She moves for the closest cup, fill her glass and raises it to the light. Dusty clouds of alkaline. Bubbles settle like fresh snow on cement. Swirl the glass; physics follows water into whirlpools and she watches water dance in her handmade cocoon. Death be to bubbles, birth be to monoons. She controls the earth, the time, and the rules.
Show him more of the sun and he’ll have to turn away.
Show him your moon and his tides will want the warmth of the shore.
Show him your roots and he will run from the depth
Show him your tallest branch and he will fear the exposure.
I walk the tightrope to you heart. On the string of screaming stares we give each other through the night. Winced between dancers and movement of the bodies between us. We never touch; only sift the energy through our palettes of passing people until our bodies reach for an arm. Stable enough to rest our breath until it shakes from the weight. And the tightrope extends from my eyes as I walk backwards through the night.
Sprout the coils of your soliloquy
Beneath your mother’s wings.
Bones of dreams dance when freedom rings
And the bloom can taste the breeze.
There is a peace missing. A peace you filled many lifetimes ago and cannot be reached without knowing where you are. When I think of you, I am reminded of the nights we laughed in the bed of my dad’s truck; picked stars to call ours and screamed back at lightning in the rain. We would giggle about poetry we wrote in notes and picture frames we once made. I remember the first time we had our first time. The blanket wrapped barely around our hips. A motion so slow, yet so quick.
And I remember the first time you had a hit. Blunt to your lips, red eyes and long rips.Too many pills came next. A needle and that blue shit. White powder lines, who’s next? You got in the game real quick. Thought I was stubborn and your friends needed you more. They called me cunt, slut, and whore. You were wrapped up in the game that played you harder than them all. The best way to explain is that we still cannot find your soul. You’re out hustling the streets without a way to retreat. Those withdraws have a way of working the weakest into the wall. A build-up, a quick draw, a small hit, a large fall.
My stomach stretches stress the size of a cigarette burn. The hole you left when you never returned. I know the world can be harsh! I too cannot face people most days! But I’d never hurt them without the knowledge of my stay. I’ve hurt them enough with knowledge of my ways. So if you can hear this, know I search for you in the parking lots, parks, and gas stations of our town. Any spare change or a blanket given is on your behalf. I have dreams of finding you and being the heroine of my past. I also have dreams you’ll leave for the heroin – surely your last.