She's crawling these days,
And it's a joyous throwback to
The wordless days, when the
Eye reflects sunshine instead of tonic
And there was someone,
Always someone                                                 up
To take over when it was too much.         up
                                                               up
She's crawling in her own spit-up
And learning how to drown.
There's a certain effortlessness
To a downward spiral
And she's mastered it with the
Dedication of a carnie's mid-night
Reflections in a backdrop
Of cotton-candy and ****** expulsion.

The world has painted itself white
And she's the little blemish
Of hangnails and spilled cognac
When Atlas would rather decorate
With her broken winter smile;
Teeth to match the whites of his eye
And shattered eggshell.

She's crawling these days, amidst
Broken bottles that reflect such starry eyes
The way puddles muddy the sky
And house the most optimistic birds,
Unheeding the poolside signs saying
Shallow end.
The water is dedicated to darkness
And she's dedicated to falling.

To you, my one and only unknown love, I bestow unto you my heart and burning desires.
I've dreamed of our wedding day, and much more to come.
But still with a blank slate, for you, my one and only unknown love.

She has hair that glows neon
In the midnight chill of the mind.
It blacks out her face from memory
Like the lace of a
Wedding veil dream catcher
Spun like spider silk
To bind her blind.

And she wears polka-dotted
Cigarette scars on painted,
Sallow, yellowed skin,
And her heart is made of patchwork,
Some pieces lovingly stitched,
Some loose,
Some worn,
Some dotted with blood from
Hazy misaimed needles.

She’s swathed in Virginia silk,
A feast for the eyes,
A feast for the moths,
And as gauzy as
Bandages, as gauzy as
The swirling darkness of her mind
As it whispers
Frightening, beautiful thoughts
From behind her button-black eyes.

She needs mending, she says,
Needle against her skin and
Eyes shining like marbles.
She needs loving, she says,
Stuffing herself with OxyContin
Laced with lies like the lace of a
Wedding veil dreamcatcher
Spun like spider silk
To bind her blind.

If I were to sing a song, I think it would be sad.
And I think, that you would be surprised.
I think you would expect me to sing something happy.
Or funny.
Because I am the calm one, the one with the optimism, who says,
it's not the end of the world, not yet
not so long as we stand together, united
and i do not let you go, because
i won't let you fall off the edge
But the lullaby I sing is mine, not yours,
And just because you still have your hope,
Courtesy, in part, to me,
Does not mean that I have mine.
And thus, if I were to sing a lullaby, I think it would be sad.

Last time I saw him he was saying "I will always love you."
Last time I saw him he was holding my hand.
Last time I saw him he smelled of cologne.
Last time, he touched my heart.
This time she is saying "I love you so much."
This time, she is kissing my cheek.
This time, she smells of perfume.
This time, she is touching my soul.