Life had stained her
a reflection upon,
a broken glass mirror
naked, only butterflies
cover my *******
love hearts & roses,
form tattoos across,
around, my spine
decorating this bare
form, one alive, one a ghost
she's my best friend,
writing poetry together
she teaches me Spanish,
the work of Pablo Neruda
on the kitchen sideboards,
shed of our black leather
pencil skirts,
you played, so seductively
with the long waves
in my blonde sun tinted hair,
painting nails, spring baby blu
you rip pages of books, black & white
newspaper prints of unicorns,
they are playing with a younger self,
moi, je fais de la bicyclette,
les fleurs, a milliners gift box
baskets filled with,
shells from the sea shore
to which we always travel
la lune et le soleil,
knowing three things can
never remain hidden; the sun, the moon,
& my truth (not yours)
for that should be me,
not you.

© Sia Jane