From afar I stand structurally sound,
No large gashes or permanent pinkish slashes,
But wind your way closer and peel back your eyes
The rust begins to show,
Climb inside I'm slowly eroding,
And collapsing.
Most feel it's better to partially admire
From behind a series of cement structures
Only glimpsing at my strength and stability.

On this night,
my heart forgot to stop loving you.

With star dusted verse and milky way melody,
I sang to you a jasmine scented lullaby.
Through crescent waves of moonbeam,
I breathed my lavender love into your dream.

In the morning when you wake, will you feel me there,
as sunlight, streaming through your sleep damp hair?


Mine is the heart that forgot to stop loving you.
Yours, the heart that could not remember to begin.

My lips have never known the taste of yours.
My nails have never scraped down your chest.
My legs haven’t wrapped around your waist.
No my body has never had the pleasure of being pleasured by you.

You haven’t slipped off my dress to caress.
You haven’t pulled my hair just to kiss down my neck.
You haven’t ****** me until I’m left screaming.
No your body doesn’t know the heat of mine.

But here we are covered with guilt,
Wearing that scarlet letter for this emotional affair.

© 2013-2014 Peach

They kissed you with that mouth
Wrote books about you
Took pictures and hung them up for beer ads
For humans with high testosterone to ogle
While they ******* the top of a beer bottle
Like it will bring their fathers acceptance
Back into their eyes.
Your nine inched heels gave me whip lash
Your ½ inch eyelashes gave me heartburn
Your spit
Indigestion
Because they kissed you with that mouth.
And you still believe,

You asked for it

You still believed you were not worth getting out of the hood for
The hood
what good is the hood and the hood-rats

You ******* ***** in alleyways

All 10 of them lined up
said I might as well have the money upfront
If I'm gonna **** **** I'm getting paid for it

They bashed your head into concrete so hard.
You forgot how your mothers voice sounded like
Almost forgot how your uncles knuckles tasted like,
I don’t know your story
I don’t know your name
I don’t know you
I just know that your friend
And my friends
Last night
Came to the conclusion
That you were a ****
And you were asking for it
You asked for your head to be bashed into concrete
And hey maybe you did
Maybe you wanted something to hit you hard enough to make you forget
The hate inside
The misogyny you swallow
and wash down the drain
maybe you were there in front of 10 guys because you wanted to know what power felt like
what being wanted felt like
because you thought you were worth the money
but they didn't
because maybe that's what you asked for
because maybe your mother taught you to get high and surrender with glazed eyes
rather then take your higheels off and fight

because your laughter sounds more broken than you do
because your eyes hold remnants of your skull
because you remember the taste of your blood too keenly
because my friends, my female friends who are not evil or sexist

my male friends the protector of women
came to an agreement
you asked for it
put yourself in the position to
smell the inside of your brain
because your blood meant power
because finishing them off
meant swallowing or bleeding
and you did some of both because
maybe you chose survival
because maybe you came in kicking naked and maybe thats how you wanna go out with
another mans hands down your throat
some to aid air some
to constrict

weather you bleed or swallow you are only
emptying out

and I tried to explain that to your friend and my friends but
there is so much anger about what happend to you
and none of it is directed at the ten faceless penises.

Because you were once a chandelier of candles
And now you are a faceless light bulb hung on the moldy hotel building
Because your **** gives you free crack and
My friends have disgust on their faces
And I feel
Pity

there was a rip in my stockings,
inner limb, long and exposed.

"i like your tights"

clunky boots, shorts, a skirt, a dress.
i was wearing them when your fingers played
with my insides.
legs long enough to drown in,
did you imagine them tangled, bruised?
my thighs are my gems, they will quiver,
damp under the sheer, ripped, flowered, polka-dotted
material.

daddy, lover, with your palms along
my calves, your teeth ridging the edge.
baby boy, with your nails tearing my hips.

i will be your black-eyed beauty.
the night you spoke my name in inked lights,
the night your lips tasted like cigarettes and chocolate,
my tights shredded.


knee high socks and blood red lipstick,
i’ve been wearing nothing but ripped
tights.

Anne and I were walking
down in the country
when we saw a lake
and a frog at its edge
“Ladies,” it croaked
“Will one of you give me a kiss? –
I was a fantastic saxophone player
and a country witch turned me
into a green frog”

I knelt down and picked up the frog
and threw him in my pocket
and buttoned up
so the creature couldn’t escape
and I resumed walking

“Sue,” said Anne to me
“Are you nuts?
The frog said it’ll turn
into a fantastic saxophone player -
so why don’t you or I  kiss it?”

“Anne,” I replied,
*“it’s you who's nuts
We’d make more money
with a talking frog anytime
than with a  saxophone dummy”

A sun, we have
belonging to us alone,
a river of ever flowing
cool waters, our own
where fish from my *****
swim towards her
mossy secret chamber,
a blue sky spreads
all for us, where clouds
of our making
wear colors,
we like  them to adorn.
No make believe
this world is  for us
to be alone with each other,
we carved it
out of nowhere
cut it out like a ribbon
from the map of universe
as we wished.
we are strangers
considering time
in human scale;
but every minute,
each symbolic ritual reiterates,
that we are from too far
where unbound from
the tangles of time and
the elements of a star;
we had known
each other for eons,
light from that far away rays
still shining in our eyes-
alone can speak that secrets, well
she is energy pure--
personified,
Shakti, the female power
eternally seeking Shiva
me,  the male in universe
for the dance of creation.

Yeah, dad, I love Math class
cos something is always adding up there

like just the other day
the teacher’s plants at the window
started growing square roots
The teacher reckons that’s cos
“the windows are squares, if you notice” -
but I reckon it’s cos
we’ve mostly got squares in class

And the teacher when she thinks someone
has done something good, she says:
“Oh, you are an angle!”
and when she’s cross she goes:
“I’ve told you n times”
or “I’ve told you n+ 4 times”

Yeah, we learn lots of stuff in Math class
like next week we going to learn
about Algeria;
but I’m not sure if my Math teacher is OK
in the head though
cos one day she tells us
3+2 = 5
and another day she insists
4+1= 5
(is that what you mean
when you say mum can never make up her mind?)
And she tells me not to use my tables
and she scolds me then when I do my division
on the floor

But I’ll say one thing about her though -
she’s so passionate about Math
my teacher is
she carries around a picture
in her wallet
of a big plus sign
with a guy nailed to it