She will lose herself in a book
and find herself in poetry

She thinks that religion is a sacrilege
and that long showers are sacred

She makes love when she's tired
and never tires of making love

She is irreverent in her humor
and pious in her gravity

She is diligent in completing her work
and ambitious of her quest for leisure

She is the personification of romanticism
and the embodiment of compassion

She exists harmoniously in my mind

These poems do not live: it's a sad diagnosis.
They grew their toes and fingers well enough,
Their little foreheads bulged with concentration.
If they missed out on walking about like people
It wasn't for any lack of mother-love.

O I cannot explain what happened to them!
They are proper in shape and number and every part.
They sit so nicely in the pickling fluid!
They smile and smile and smile at me.
And still the lungs won't fill and the heart won't start.

They are not pigs, they are not even fish,
Though they have a piggy and a fishy air --
It would be better if they were alive, and that's what they were.
But they are dead, and their mother near dead with distraction,
And they stupidly stare and do not speak of her.

I don't think you know
how madly in love
I am
with you;
I can imagine you clearly
in a ****** white tee
smiling in the sunlight
compelling me to you
like you are the earth
and I am the moon.
(but the moon will never
touch the earth,
as I will never
touch you)

princess,
don't you know your castle is a prison?
you may live comfortably,
but you live chained.
let me take you away.
I cannot promise you luxury;
I can only promise you love.
I know that this
[love]
is a trifle to trade kingdoms for,
but I ask all the same,
palm upturned and hand outstretched.
let me take you away.
I promise to make it
worth your while.
(I promise to make it
up to you)

"I'm sorry, forgive me"
"I'll never raise my hand at you
I swear"
"I love you"

These bruises on my face that
I tried to conceal are finally
Wearing me
Not all the make-up in the
World can beautify the tallies
Of your anger that adorn my
Skin

Your heart beats anger
And it courses through your veins
Pulps of blood I tried
To hide with layers of clothes
Have finally stained
And I can't lie anymore

You call this love?
Is love the purple bruises
Plastered across my pale skin
That have been left behind
By the velvety hands I used
To yearn for?

You love me
It's okay
I should not be afraid
You were just blowing
Off steam
You love me

I've been swimming in this
Pool of denial long enough
To know that I can't really
Swim, I'm drowning
And my feet are firmly
Fixed on the ground

I am afraid of
The monsters lurking
Behind the iris of your pupil
The demons that lurk
Behind your shadows

I haven't seen my mother
In a few months
I'm scared she'll see behind
The facade I put on
She'll tell me
"Baby, you need to leave"
And I don't want to leave
He doesn't want me to leave

My head has been banged
Across the kitchen walls
More than it has been raised
These walls have been repainted
Repainted, and repainted
My scalp has been snatched
More times that I've cared to
Admit

I'm ashamed to say
I've traded parts of me
For shambles of trust,
A lot of bruises,
Rough ***,
Infatuation,
And called it love

When all the magic is gone
we will crawl from checkpoint to checkpoint
with dull great white eyes
always hungry
always starving ourselves
gotta look good for the summer
when all the magic is gone
we will howl out for sacrifice
it’s shoe harvesting season
and you’ve gotta cop some of this crop
when all the magic is gone
the national anthem will change with top 100
and when the air is stale
the prophets and poets will be driven out of town
to test their mettle in uncaring wilderness
when the magic is gone
we will hail the president on bended knee - blindfolded
when the magic is gone
everything will be trending
and nobody will give a ****
so get your abra kadabras in now
you don’t know how much magic we have left