Annisa Vincent: Favorites

Jul 2013 Annisa Vincent

5:40

Jul 2013 Annisa Vincent

Sin

5:40

sometimes I trace the bottoms
of my fingers and down my palm,
I draw circles around my wrists

silently reminding myself
that there are no cracks,

that I am whole.

I run my eyes along the ceiling,
scanning desperately for a sign,
thinking maybe ghosts carved their names

between the ridges and the miniature shadows.
I sink my head into my pillow,

hoping maybe I will get
swallowed without a sound,
and I will drown,

like I almost did when I was eleven,

and I banged my ribs and burned my lungs
with black, dead water.

sometimes I have these moments alone

where your slow breathing
still won't calm me, not even the humming
of planes gliding through sky.

its 5:40 AM and my world is silent
but my mind is screaming.

Jul 2013 Annisa Vincent

fingertips

Jul 2013 Annisa Vincent

eIectrifying

fingertips

your fingertips danced across my skin
like children in the snow
you caressed my aching soul
and slowed my rapid heartbeat
the light in your eyes
twirled about as our lips pressed together
your tongue sought solace
inside my mouth
and my teeth grazed your bottom lip
as payment for your loves newfound home

your fingertips stayed firmly inside
our locked hands
you traced my smile with your lips
and promised to write me love letters
describing how your heart soared
when i entered the room
i laughed and you raced
to remember the lines that formed
in the corners of my eyes
when my smile lit up

your fingertips stayed hidden in your pockets
as we walked together
down our favorite path underneath the moonlight
i thought it was quite romantic tonight
and felt love coursing through my veins
as i looked at you
but you kept your head down
and the only time you looked up
was not to look at me
but to look at the brilliance of the moon

your fingertips were holding her hand now
and your teeth grazing her bottom lip
as i had once done to you
you wrote her songs of love
and she wrote you poems
describing the brilliance of your eyes
my soul shrank at the sight of the two of you
my heart was a living flame
that eventually died out to ashes
at the the fact that i would never hold your fingertips in mine again

Jul 2013 Annisa Vincent

Molly (Soul'd Out)

Jul 2013 Annisa Vincent

kenye

Molly (Soul'd Out)

I'm not here to f-ck you Molly
     But maybe I can still make you feel beautiful
          Even if you're dead.

You were an "A" girl
     in the red-light district

This side of town
     Your Daddy was a politician

And his best friend
     Was your last appointment

They found your bones under the floorboards,
Molly.
They wanted to put you in a display case,
Molly.
What's your unfinished business
Molly?

You're still showcasing your soul
As an apparition of this apartment

They're here

Isn't it time to move on?
Don't you have light to travel through,
  to get to another physical vehicle?

What keeps you illuminating this place?
I'm not here to ***** you out
Maybe I'm just trying to understand,

What really happens when we die,
Molly?
Are they trafficking ghosts here for profit
Molly?
Have you soul'd out,
Molly?

I wrote this when I went on a haunted bar tour in Milwaukee. It used to be an old speakeasy that doubled as a brothel back during prohibition. The bar is said to be built on an old graveyard they dug up in a very poltergeist-esque fashion. I was inspired to write this after we were taken to one of the former A-girl's apartments. She allegedly went missing back in the 20's and they found some bones under the floorboards on the roof back in the early 90's. I don't know what it is about Milwaukee, but it seems to be a hotbed for weird and paranormal stuff. I've always had a weird fascination for it's history. It's a very interesting town.

Jul 2013 Annisa Vincent

June 23rd, 2013

Jul 2013 Annisa Vincent

Sin

June 23rd, 2013

they told me
"never fall in love with a bad boy."

what they didn't tell me
was that bad boys
are not boys with scars
that have no stories.

they are not boys
with split bones,
stretched shadows,
black irises, and blacker bruises.

bad boys are the ones who
stitch together their words,
silk spider webs,
wrapping you up,
just like he did in his arms.

they are not boys who hide their faces,
and spill smoke from thin lips.

bad boys are the ones who
fill your hungry cries
with red wine and black waters,
dragging you down,
just like he did with his words.

they told me
"never fall in love with a bad boy."

but I did.