Your scent in my bed
your voice in my head
your touch on my skin
the taste of your sin
all haunting me
until I see you again

You pulled long wings from my back to my ribs-
deep passion inscriptions and hieroglyphs
with your nails as I whispered unholy
prayers into your ears with your mouth closed.
I tripped into your superstition that started with a kiss
outside your door after midnight,
pressing my shoulder blades into the palm of your hands.
You said you didn't try any games.
I said I didn't like to play.

Be careful, supernova, you'll burn out.

I attacked you right from the start.
"Shut up, would ya!" you'd say with a smile,
laughing when I'd scream back at the television commercials
when they'd ask me stupid questions.
I drove you insane.
But when you'd fall asleep I'd trace your eyelids
like crop circles with my fingertips,
making a thin bridge over your nose
connecting pinpoints like constellations.
Sometimes I'd ask you to read the stories
that you wrote on my skin.
You'd pass the message along through your lips
gently against mine the way a shadow sits
on a figure.
I'd sigh when your hands skipped over
the space between my thighs.

Be careful, supernova, you'll burn out.

I took a chance on you.
You didn't bid on me.
I guess it's true that some things
burn too bright.

Hush, little witch, don’t say a word;
They’re coming with fire and rope
To tie you to the radiator.

Speak softly, little witch,
Hide away your hat and cloak;
The cat mustn't mew in the corner,
And you must sweep the floors.

The hearts of mortals are weak,
they see shadows and devils within you.
Hush, little witch, quiet your angels.

Feed them lies, little witch,
Don’t let them see you!
The truth will not set you free, here, it will let you burn!
For all your power to do good, they are blind, little witch;
Let them see with your eyes, but pretend they are not yours.

Oh, child why are you crying?
You were born into madness
And you will die in madness,
Lest you  end in fire.

Servants of love, this is our curse;
Our horrible and beautiful curse.
I’m sorry.
This isn’t what I wanted for you,
But it’s the price we pay to be angels.

You smell like cigarettes and old books,
Taste like the salt of regret.
Eyes as brown as your leather jacket,
Silence as cold as the night we spent
Laughing and kissing.

I should have known-
The night was so cold and you
Covered my shoulders as if to
Distract me from the ice behind
Your warm embrace.

I should have known-
You only looked me in the eye
When physicality transcended
And you had me in your grasp.
Lust is the only emotion
Eyes don’t betray.

I should have known-
Brown is so warm.
Yet you love the snow.

I know I am not really lying on the beach
Eyes facing up towards the sky
Where I really am is in Vienna
In a small classroom filled with fourth graders
Sitting in a circle in a room
That was decorated in glow in the dark stars
And a fake camp fire next to a cardboard cutout of a wolf
I remember learning about the Oregon Trail
And how cowboys would campout underneath stars
Guns close by so other dangerous creators wouldn’t be
And looking at the fake stars in that room
I was in another world, a realer world
Where the cosmos didn’t make stars
Bullets did
Silver bullets meant to hit werewolves
Who were so compelled to howl at the moon
They forwent the odds of being gunned down
And so easily they could be when the moon
Lit perfectly their silhouette  
Naked in plain view
All the stars were silver bullets
One that never met their target and flew
Past the wolfs and up into the black sky
Where they pierced the world’s barrio
The bullet holes became not stars
But un-mendable scars
From men who wanting to mutilate
The sky’s beauty with weapons
There to remind me
When the lights turned on in that classroom
The glowing little stars melted into the white popcorn ceiling
And as we, the fourth graders, disconnected our circle on the floor
The reality of the origin of stars I had just come to know
Never left me and the stars I see at night now
Are not as real as the ones I saw that day.