I know I was never kissed by the sun,
but all I've ever had was the moon's love;
my mother's arms were the only strong ones
that held skin untouched by father above.
The night sky never rivered down my spine,
but I had it pooled between my lashes.
Pearl teeth, lips the color of blush wine;
who I am has to be just the ashes...
I must be a phoenix about to soar,
there is no other way to explain it:
I've beauty, but not yet, but like before.
I am of the sea foam, not sand sunlit,
not like her. She is father's favorite kiss,
her hair's darker than an ocean floor,
her lips are full and warm and hot and bliss.
She's beauty, just like now, not like before.
She's on your lips but I am in your arms.
Touch me with the fingers that long for her,
listen to me with ears full of her charms...
Her name is what you call in drunken slurs.
If my heart did break, it made no real sound,
but spun and twisted me tight to my knees,
there I pledged my mother and became moon-bound,
dancing bare in her light in the slight breeze.