one person turned my stomach inside out
flowers wilted
fast as promises made
of smoke.
Cigarettes lied to me,
all four I've ever loved.
Little mirrors
and naked boys
sang a song of pomegranates.
From the tree
to her crown it fell;
snapped branches from her hair
laid down beside another wet cheek.
Sadness is intimate
for me to create:
and destroy
not for ***** feet
on white carpet.
your wings were my wings
remember that?
on a path haunted
by rocks and maybe bears.
wound tightly around your center
this vine won't hold
forever.