When I left you standing by that
still lake
I fully expected your image
to remain reflected,unmoving in the waters
surface.
Instead I made my journey back
and you were nowhere to be seen.
I stood for hours beckoning
but nothing cared for my inquiry.
When night then fell
the stars shone bright
and thus I realized
that in those stars
I saw your eyes.

These solar winds blast through me
gamma rays break through my flesh
leaving me atomized
separated into ions.
My soul remains behind
as yet to reconnect with that one light
as I explore this universe
forever destroying and remaking itself.
I witness stars come into existence
while galaxies crash into themselves
leaving cold space behind
and a hole that almost ***** me in

I wonder then where would I be?

You look at me
with those eyes
imploring
your soul
seeking
answers that experience can only answer.

Your hands search me
your hair hangs low, curling
and inviting. These times are
simple.
I love them, sinking
gluttonously too deep
to a place we both enjoy.

But then...

we come again
to your greedy eyes
probing deep within my
tender soul
wanting answers
to questions
no girl my age should know.

The wailing winds
whip about
lashing at the wheat
bending-cowering down.
Against the night
the stars shine-
holes in the floor of heaven.

Southern summer nights
too hot
swimming in a sea of humid
drowning in a pool of sweat
and sweet tea.
Sweet tea like syrup
dark hazel
filled with ice
cubed and perfect
from an imperfect freezer tray.
Frizzy hair
glistening skin
from a dull sun
tempered by an Atlantic breeze.
The moon shines full
lighting the scent of the summer night.
Honey suckle, hydrangeas, cotton textured
dandelions like parachutes against the
black night sky
is a southern summer night.

The blood began to flow.

I watched the liquid flow almost black and viscous.
I was in a place beyond myself,
far removed from my shattered psyche
that refused to recognize your twisted limbs,
the waste pooling around us from your bowel.

Your stench overcame the powerful scent of cloves
that had spilled from your bag.

As I teetered on the edge of darkness
I wondered if I could regain myself
before the comfort of madness.

You were so heavy against me...
so dead.

My fingers gripped flesh,
my palms leaked sweat between the silky folds of your inner
elbow.

How could it come to this?

Then the pressure came.
My chest filled and heaved,
my eyes grew hot,
all my ears could hear
was the life blood that had left you pumping incessantly,
intolerably in my temples.

She stayed motionless
with only one rhythmic breath sounding music through the night.

I pressed the corpse closer to my breast.

Woman: You're no longer here with me.

But you are.

She pressed her ear to those dead lips
cold and unfeeling.

Just under the surface of memory
there was the familiarity of kisses once delivered
by your fleeted consciousness.

A star exploded before me
its dying life seeped tendrils
out
so far
it reached my earthly eyes.
The heat from its extinction
burned me
like a melting candle I seeped
between
the floorboards
dripping hardened
wax onto your face.
staining both wood
and carpet below.

Once I thought I'd seen a butterfly
I watched its wings

touch and gape
touch and gape
touch and
fall

like a dying star
I witnessed its fall
swallowed by an ocean
coloured by the receding sun.

From the time when the sun peaked behind the clouds
Or when my heart took its first beat,
When the root broke through its hard enclosure
To sprout from its nest,
I always knew I loved you
You always knew I cared.
Our hearts never strayed
You and I are one in the same.

When the last star flickers out
Blown into nothing by God’s own lips
And the last tree is stripped, its roots ripped from the ground
You and I shall still be one; our love has not yet frayed.
When the last leaf blows across the ground until it turns to dust,
My love for you shall be as strong, before beginning had a name.

Should I be perplexed
Exactly what is it that you expect?
Should I have lavished you with flattery
spilled upon you insincerity
is that all you wanted from me?

Because with you there is only suspision.
You may be smiling-your voice as sweet as honey-
the breath from words reminiscint of honey suckle
hanging motionless in the still summer's air
but that smile stops short of your eyes
the honey laced with laudanum
and within the core of summer's flower lays a deadly wasp in waiting.

As if the time were slow like molasses easing slowly from its cage
And patience still was weighted by love and loss and experiences made.
As if love were something frequently found
And kept
In step with intentions,
Then time with you would be so very easy,
And love would be something no longer spurned.

When it gets to be too much
When the ache in one’s chest becomes a pounding throb
And every breath becomes a chore of monumental effort
Remember that life goes on
That life wont be as hard
And pain from disappointment & regret will eventually pass

I rose from this earth
Levitating above my sick
I looked down at those crying eyes
My slack mouth no longer breathing out
And left those people far behind
Memories of love fading fast.
I wisped like smoke through rooftops

I’m going to try now
Try and explain the sensation
Of a muttered word caught barely
Of the motion of wind felt lightly
As you brush past me almost daily.
I’ll try and compound on the feeling,
When we’re within miniscule distance
When my heart starts to beat with a quickness
That I fear you can see its imprint.
Will you understand my stuttering rambles?
As my tongue sticks like a bag in a thicket
Like a bird flutters panicked against a current
Or a rabbit running scared from its assailant.
I’ll try and put it now quite bluntly
For I see you misunderstand so subtly
That I find you entrancing, engulfing
And I’m sad that I found you too late.

I had a thought
a burst of inspiration
it whorled about my head
singed the skin of my ears
burned away the fringes of hair
---let loose about my face---
like ash flicked from the tip of a cigarette.

This thought multiplied
as many do, but even more this grew
taking up empty space, filling the heavens in my eyes
consuming me with a fire unfelt before, unknown to be felt--before.

Like pure energy it fumbled
crackling about the dry air.
Twisting, contorting--grotesquely beautiful--it tantalized me
ripping me with ethereal bare hands--until, my soul lay beating out
a glow in response to this epiphany, in a hand that was not a traditional hand.

This body moved
possessed of an inner passion
as these eyes watched detached as
my essence, received the violent creation in motion.
I feared it would burst and spill, letting go past memories
and that thing that will not come again, that nutrient that comes only once.

This body shook
the limbs quivered and tightened
in anticipation of a full soul ready to be received.
And when that hand, which was yet not a hand inserted
pressed, squashed, stuffed me back into myself my body felt light
despite--this immense entity housed within my flesh of skin, blood and bone.

When all had become quiet outside
I heard the music still, the monstrous song
that enveloped my ears fully, captured my eyes inwardly
until I fell backwards in a rapture locked in a battle I wished to lose.

This music slowly died
and with it my tremors stilled
until all that was left behind was but
the tiny ****** of a thousand angelic bells
hanging from the Bell-Trees of paradise's seventh node.

I have walked across the meadows
And smelt the flowers, fresh and new.
I have skirted the edge, gazed upon the rocky *****
Seen the steep mountaintops.
I have experienced the terrain
And wiped the beaded sweat
From my furrowed brow.
I have slipped and fallen
Not wanting to rise, too try again.
I have time and again rubbed raw
My palms and feet to reach the summit,
And yet the wind knocks me down
And the stubborn mountain will not fall
It will not yield; so cold it is, so distant.
Anguish follows, then hurt, and pain.
And soon my pity is swept away on those winds I thought to be my foe.
I look upon the mountaintop
And realize I could not climb
And will not climb
This mound of earth.
I will turn my back to it
And let my anger simmer
Ill let it boil and spill over unto the ground
Leaving burn marks as a “beware of danger” sign.
Now all yearn to reach the top
Is buried under an avalanche of soil.
I turn my back away from it
And look towards that meadow.
It is not as green, or lush, or sweet
As I remember it to be.