We lied there, between her sheets,
finger painting on each others skin.
and then she kissed me for the first

time after we- and that is when I knew,
that her love was the kind of love that burns
as it travels down your throat

And all I could taste were the lovers in her past,
the hearts that she broke,
and I knew that if I stayed my heart

would burn amongst theirs, so...
I did what I do best.
I gathered up my clothes that fell

on to the ground an hour before we-
I walked to the door and twisted the
glass stained ****

and left

That morning when I woke upon
my sheets. I kissed my darling, promised,
girl next to me and tasted

nothing

I first kissed her when the moon was red,
her lips tasted of vintage 1997 Ornellaia,
Which burned my throat traveling down,
I closed my eyes to let the sweetness savor
And when she pressed me to her heart
The stars hit the ends of my nerves

She took out guitar stings to light each strand
Then smoked amethyst clouds into the blue
night sky. When she spoke, each syllable was
cold and I kissed her again to taste the
Warm red wine.

In the morning her kiss became a sin.
She tasted like suitcases and train tickets.
I had to close my eyes to not watch her go
And when I opened them she had already gone.

2am is so unkind

She runs through a crowd of loud
Mouths and impatient feet.
To a greasy whistle  
And a speaker that vibrates on the train.
She hands a ticket to the Conductor.
He smiles sweetly. Her stoic porcelain
Weakly reflects, and he notices the ochre
Tangles nesting in her eyes, and lilacs
Stained within her skin.
Her glace froze and she sends
Fingers to adjust the jacket over
Her unkissed collarbones,
Composed, but fingers tremble,
Hiding bruises of
Black and blue.

The rain had just finished
Falling. She draws on the atmosphere
Stuck to the glass.
The streets became unlit and lonely,
She looks to her left hand at the ring
Which reminds her of the knuckles the kissed
Her cheeks.
She tries to forget,
Pulling out pages of Hemingway
And lays a bag underneath her heavy, pounding
Head, reading to her wounds that
Shed her once-loved-skin.

She cries
And then she cries
Again.

He returns to a house that no longer exists.
Once upon polished floors are now painted scuff-
marks that can never be erased. Where there was
once a breath of pleasure and life that pumped

freely through the pipes. The locksmith turned off
all of the facets and the valves are now frozen solid.
And blemished, burnt walls cast unforgiving
shadows from the ashes. Where each spark

Started at her lips, like cherries thrown in embers
against his. Satisfying her hungry ardor. Watering
his eyes. His fingers that sweetly caressed the pale,
Porcelain cheeks are left blackened and charred.  

He gathers his love that fell and broke upon the ground
In smoldering piles of dust and shreds, and hides the
Warmth pressed between pages of books, Like flowers
in the winter. A place no one would look to find.

He brought in barriers, to board windows and doors,
And placed them where they needed to go. Shutting
Every window and closing every door. Leaving no knobs
and no key holes. And every time there is a knock,

He returns to clean the pile on the floor.

ia m     s     o
                           sca
                                 t              t
                                                     er                   d

We told our stories to the demons
that hid in our ratted hair
and carved out secrets beneath the black bark
of trees, They bled every stroke and our secrets
were never told.

In the night we collected the broken
pieces of corvine hearts and kept them
warm within the casing of our pillows
Every night that our mascara fell became a lullaby
for the love birds to sing in their
mourning.

We danced with lilac vines
we kissed endangered ivory
we loved evergreens
we flirted with death

Monarchs came to our slumber and
whispered sweet nothings to the demons
and in the morning the bark regrew on the
trees
and ever since
it hasn't been quite the same

Pink light
fresh sent
candle lit
finger tips
petal pores
black swan lash
river laugh