I wear upon my head this crown of thorns.
All the roses have been plucked away
By the beggars and the rulers and the cowards.
They smashed them like blood on the streets.
I am left only with this misunderstood skeleton,
The armour that did not protect them.
I am seen now as barbed wire;
Some dangerous, hostile being,
Secluded by my own fortress.
The new faces in the crowd do not know
That long ago I wore a crown of roses.
The only see the jaded corpse,
What’s left of me.

I fall in love with self-destruct buttons.
Those little red ones in films, you know.
Ticking time bombs waiting for the clock to count down.
One day he sobs into the nape of my neck
And begs for me to hold him forever.
The next he sits an inch further away than usual,
Slips into the old routine
Of breaking my heart with too few words.
Silly old girl, pouring my heart into a broken cup.
Pieces of me slip through the cracks.
I’m left to gather myself alone.
You’d think that I would have learned
Not to fall so hard for those little red buttons.
I haven’t yet.

I hope my name tastes like ash and burnt coffee in your mouth
Whenever the opportunity arises that you must speak it.
I hope my memory singes the photographs of us in your mind.
I hope you threw my letters into a bonfire in a fit of rage,
Then extinguished it with your salty, bitter tears.
I hope the sound of my voice rushes through your dreams like a wildfire,
Wakes you up in a cold sweat, gasping
For my gentle fingertips against your cheeks.
I hope the arsonist living quietly inside you
Sets fire to your veins and arteries and capillaries
Whenever you see me pass on the street.
I hope we burn for eternity,
An endless flame destined for immortality.

I wear my loneliness on the ring finger of my right hand, upside down.
A beautiful reminder of
Empty coffeehouse booths and
Cold bedsheets, imprinted only by one.

Someone asked me what his name was,
Noticed my confused glare,
And nodded quietly towards my hand.
I had slipped it on without looking that morning,
Right side up,
Wearing a fake lover upon my finger.
I stammered as I turned it around again,
Reassuring them of my loveless heart.

Any stranger, near or far,
Can see my loneliness.
The brilliant emerald embedded only proves
To be a distraction.