My life lacked purpose ‘fore the day we met
Beneath the harvest moon you stood in wait
Your eyes, bright amber, blinking large and wet
I swooned at our encounter, called it fate,
Your hair, it shimmered dark as blackest night
You scorned me, yet I could not turn away
When suddenly you took off in a flight,
I swore that I would not be kept at bay
Your silhouette now low against the ground,
I squint to make you out in night’s dim haze
Hear rapid patters as you tread around
Your countenance a mirror of your ways
When I make my approach, you hiss and mewl
Alas, now to a cat I’ve played the fool!

Camila dips a toe into the black
A ring of water sears upon her skin
She knows at once she cannot venture back
until she tames the beast that lurks within
She’s grown familiar with its poison kiss,
The fragile light corrupted by its shade,
Yet if one truth exists, she thinks it this:
Camila’s fought too long to be afraid  
She winces as her knuckles sear and scar
But, trem'bling, she does not cease her descent
She casts her burning eyes into the tar
and spies the beast, head hung and elbows bent,
but startles when the beast cries out in song
Its voice had been Camila’s all along

we drink in the day
like a cup of coffee
or a soft breath
a question beneath a universe of sacrifice
never changing
lingering with love

I watch her watch herself,
pale, slender fingers pressed against her flat stomach.
She gives an uncertain sigh as she turns this way and that,
twirling a lock of hair in her pale, slender fingers
and trying to look disinterested in her own reflection.

She reaches into a tiny purse, eventually,
and pulls out a tube of mascara.
Her eyes widen to marbles as she teeters close to the mirror,
applying her armor stroke
by stroke
by stroke.

She knows that I am watching her now (I wobble hazily in the mirror),
so I look away for a moment,
and by the time my eyes dart back to hers, her eyelashes flutter pitch black
Like ink spilling from a fountain pen.

I can tell she’s still looking at her stomach
And she can tell I’m still looking at her,
so she murmurs something like acknowledgement
and brushes past me.
Watching her walk away feels wrong, so I look down at my hands instead,
red and pruny
from the hot water seeping down the drain.

and i am Seething in my seat
and my mother reaches for my hand
as if to say “i’m sorry” but she doesn’t say it
and she pays my head
and we will not speak of this again
and my father nods in absent agreement
and my sister watches my eyes
always watching
as if i am a time bomb
about to
explode.

the sun is your heart
a ball of white hot anger
too distant to touch.

the sun is your smile
clear through skies and atmospheres
and it shines. you shine.

the sun is your breath
pulsing with understanding
heavy, solemn, slow.

a single rosebush beside the path
its thorn ****** at her side
but on she walks at a solemn pace
her heart in agony

a patch of brambles occludes the way
its vines too thick and wide
but on she walks over briared earth
the pain becomes her guide

a path leads down to a shattered coast
its tide so strong and high
but on she walks into greyest sea
and melts into the tide

a hollow gasp slips from thinnest lips
teardrops from iron eye
but on she walks at a solemn pace
she feels the spirit die