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alexis May 2019
the salt in my skin
grants me a bit of safety
from those who lap at the souls of the weak.
the one or two who dared to taste
recoiled their tongues,
mouth more sour for having wasted saliva on me.

i understand how to live
as a sharp misfortune of the senses.

but i don’t understand you,
with your heart full of nectar
ready to give a spoonful for a bitter tea,
or a hearty cup for a neighbor with sudden need.

don’t you see the crows circling,
waiting to gorge on your ripe heart?
they take pieces like candy from a bowl,
hoping to finding their whole
from a beauty best not enjoyed in parts.

i don’t understand you,
how you share so sweet a love
with drifters on a sugar fix,
a knowing smile on your face.
crows dressed in a finch’s feathers
chirp their pathetic thank you song,
it is enough for you.

i wish to learn how to sweeten my skin again.
a bit of salt always makes sugar taste sweeter.
alexis May 2019
a rose by any other name
would smell just as sweet.
but if i had fallen
for another flower,
i wouldn't have so many thorns
in my side.
alexis May 2019
woe is me,
who dies so much, so often
my black, strangled of oxygen
walking with my life-rosy color.

woe is me,
who cuts the black with a knife
sometimes scraping a bit of the life
with it
a daily funeral
for the betterment of the beast.

joy is i!
who is reborn again,
without need for the womb,
and from the tomb
i do not depart.

joy is i!
who has exit from woe
a door manifested from the material
of my many deaths.

joy and woe is i!
who is living
and alive.
alexis Apr 2019
i fell in love with you because you were gold,
dazzling, brilliant, a comfort few can afford.
and i also fell in love with a silver heart,
a few less stars in their shine, but soul glimmering with humility.
i settled for second because i believed i was bronze;
the last place in a race, the dull brown of pennies
but where you saw me as tarnished brass,
i was their fool’s gold.
and you grew ever so dim that day
when they proved their weight
in so much more than you.
inspired by “weight in gold” by gallant.
alexis Apr 2019
i ask you, rose
where you got your renowned red
your baby’s breath seem to hold theirs
and your delicate petals slowly unfurl
as if to say,
“by blooming”

i ask you, sky
where you got your horizon’s hue
and your ivory gossamer-thin clouds flesh out suddenly
your azure obscured from my view
as if to say,
“this is the color i prefer you to see”

i ask you, ocean
where you got your summery salt
and you begrudgingly lap the sand again and again
with a watery crash and a rush of sea foam
as if to say,
“would salt not rise in you, too?”

i ask you, night
where you got your pitch dark
and as stoic as you are
i see the twinkle of a diamond in your dusk
as if to say,
“if i am dim, someone else will be bright for me”

i ask you, me
where you got your callous heart;
from the vulnerable openness of a flower?
or the shyness of the sky’s expanse?
was it from the salt of a sea raging inside you?
or the stars who ignore your woeful nights
while they bask in their own glow?
and hot tears threaten to spill on my cheeks
as if to say,
“this earth, and my time on it”
alexis Dec 2018
heaven is just
a place in the sky
and a promise in a book
compared to the paradise
that is
your love.
alexis Nov 2018
the sugar bowl rests on the table, anchoring the vinyl tablecloth patterned with bowls of fruits that never became famous.

flies orbit around it like the sun, blissfully unaware of the fly paper hanging in the corner,
looming like God over the room.

a ceiling cemetery,
a paper paradise.

i look at the mummified insects and i wince.

my fingertips trace the rim of your mouth
and my skin pebbles.
i wet my finger and indulge in you again.

a fly trap awaits me.
inspired by a passage in “aqua viva” by clarice lispector.
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