...
I like to convince myself that she's a walking solar system.
(One)
(It will never be enough;)
She has the sunken cheek bones of Mercury;
~filthy shadows, caked in crimes~
they forge her face,
oh so well,
and engrave her smile in
stone; the sun
laughs sourly,
and then,
he spits on her.
(Two)
(Because sorrow is a sweet thing.)
She reminds me of Venus the most.
Her hair is the murmur of violet,
her beauty, it lingers,
~like cigarettes beyond the boundary~
the cosmos, the constellations, and the milky way.
She is my dragon princess,
draped in stars and wounds.
She bleeds
the somber color of night.
She is royal, yet alas
"The queen didn't come
without a crumbling castle.
(Three)
(So take it in, don't hold your breath)
Beneath the arc of her spine;
Is where Earth plays
poker with her bones.
It's such a shame,
that her ace is her 'unkempt heart,'
and she lost it to a pitiful bet,
with a certain ghost I once knew.
(Four)
(The bottom's all I've found.)
Her fingers gouge through time's fabric, and her hands
remind me of Mars;
Powerful and ******,
Oblivious to what she's created;
I'm afraid
the phantom
she wishes so dearly to see,
is only getting hungrier.
(Five)
(Diamond wings were meant to be torn)
Jupiter is the core of her anxiety,
and she basks in it every day,
never by choice, never by desire.
Muscles and skin of iron and goldenrod,
they carve out our very own Aphrodite,
which is you,
it's always been you.
A rabid angel,
a calamity of chaos,
frothing with blackened fear.
(Six)
(Spill every flower from your garden of thoughts)
Subtle depression lurks between the
the crooked sea of her ribcage,
it's Saturn smoking rings,
brewin' up the cinders.
~I reminiscence in the white lace~
of the cobwebs that hold her
heart together.
I've plucked them,
those strings play a mournful
sonata, with her name written all over it.
(Seven)
(Promises bend at every funeral we attend)
In the graces of her palms we found Uranus,
like teal teeth
and whimsical witchcraft,
I watched her thread magic into this world.
Her hopes shift-shape into 'nocturnal fairies',
and 'grim reapers' with broken music boxes.
She is naïve, but that is
a trait she needs to survive
in our world of
metallic dreams and navy nightmares.
(Eight)
(Rejection is a survivable heartache)
And so what if her heart reminded me
of Neptune the most?
The royal vastness
of blue and ivory;
~riptides on the walls of her soul~
I want her to know that ambitions
leave more scars and
tear more crystal flesh;
than her polished wishes ever will.
(Nine)
(Have you ever seen blood and water in love?)
And her lungs,
they remind me of the honesty of Pluto.
So small, and docile,
like an elliptical smile of grey fire.
Would you lay with me a while,
count your unconditional lovers;
like our burnt stars in mason jars?
Struggle is the birth
of the void and the 'rapture'
~Your king and poet will wait for you,
in the radiant abyss of our ink-hearts~
I will guide you to his open arms,
a hug awaits my dragon princess.
He wears the stars for clothes,
like an outlaw,
among the banks of the universe.
Where disease can't reach him, or she,
Cancer can't harm you anymore,
"Not anymore, Belle."
...
Sincerely, Capricorn.
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