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Oli May 2
my love, my love
all of it for you, babe
take a burning bottle and bury it in my chest
love's the only thing that can take away the pain
rest upon the pigment, pressed against your cheek
love like red and pink, tug of war
waves so frightening
gloss and sweat, she gives it to me
my love
makes me feel like,
a woman
a baby in sleep
a lemon tree bursting in heat

love love love
Oli Apr 17
The cool wind cuts the arches of my ears with a sterile razor blade
its fingers act in delicate fashion
i'm spitting back
bits of my own nails, strands of my own hair
clumps of my own skin
thumbs pressed with kind intent into both of my cheeks, giving me direction

it was me, red heels stamped against some hangar doors, thirty feet above
pulling at a rope when they'd caught me
and it was you at the dock, among the others
eyes fixed on a particular cloud with little windows, like a slit to heaven
you just wanted to be home
and when you came home, as you would, you had that same blinding look in your eyes,
something you stole

and i woke up, as i always do
and found that my sleep wasn't over
and won't be over
until this ash buried beneath the surface of my skin
leaves me alone forever
just leaves me alone forever
Oli Apr 16
Annie holds a poorly drawn picture under unbearably hot water
keeping eyes locked with her own in the mirror
and Annie pokes holes through the small green letters
and smothers the small pink people, devolving into a soup of colors
and she can't hear the television, she can't see the little one
green, pink
dancing down the drain
strings from her foaming mouth
searching for her bare ankles through the steam
Oli Apr 12
i'm mounting my bicycle
i'm minding the pain in my gums
in my eyes and the sun
and the candy rappers, little candy rappers
there's blood on my palms
there's a trail in the dirt
there's an older man, holding hands with his small daughter
and he smiles back
and now i have a reference, but not today
today i suffer
allow me to suffer
my mouth full of sugar, and a muffled "no"
no, no
no, not today
you're not allowed to save me
i have shiny clothes and my mouth is sticky,
you're not allowed to take me
save me, erin
Oli Mar 4
Scissors and slanted fingers
Skeletal trills
Stretched, hung, resembling my pollinator
sliding down my throat, and cut
and choke on the blood
Thicker than pink or red
and purple and black
beneath my father
Oli Jan 26
I saw you, a bright, brittle, wood-carved room. Down the stairs, the lowest floor. That old library. Yellow chairs, steel shelves.
Summer heat, numb and vague. Young and ***. Dozens of steps away.
Stickers on paperback books, wildlife, Japanese words.
I was sweating, smudged, my face was ready, ready for the transformation to come.
But I sat and closed my eyes, in the company of one green telephone, and I fell asleep, love forgive me.
The lonely things that fell upon me then, that cut my head, I can't embrace them anymore.
I whisper to myself, as they walk right in, placing things here and there, brand new things, comfortable things, minding me calmly.
I didn't need to speak a word.
I ask myself, "how long?", dirt already adding onto my skin, as I climb into my brand new bed.
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