Submit your work, meet writers and drop the ads. Become a member
 
saige Mar 2018
she's a siren
in a wasteland
a tantalizing ebon-eyed angel
gloved in lacy little bralettes
cloaked by burnt hair
she lures, lulls
lashes curled
fingertips cold
while the world shifts and spins
she stays, a gravestone
her shape, the muse of every rave
from shakespeare to sheeran
skin, a minefield of goosebumps
freckles
and velvet
and that cookie cutter heart
inked into her collarbone
(i knew her before that, once)

before the toothpick cross
on her viola-neck-of-a wrist, too
plus the piercing in her naval
before those crystal charms that just dangle there
the ones her exes line up
to drop off
each april
before they slip into her bedroom
slide into those cheetah-print sheets
same ones they wove their
seeds and sweat and sins into
a handful of ages ago

amidst the haze that haunts those troops
i witness lust
a black hole masked by magnets
stained with cream-ridden coffee
reeking of mary jane and cake batter chapstick
(i gave her lip-balm for her birthday, once)

evermore and nonetheless,
armies drown themselves in
airport perfume
lilac bottles she trades her tickets for
because free spirits can't afford to both
stay in
and smell like
paris
thus, she stalls
until she passes as graceful
but zeus knows she can't settle
only lounge on her six-foot teddy bear
another birthday gift, another admirer
who isn't a secret as much as forgotten
(i almost forgot her, once)

i witness
the men on the moon march through
that war on mars, then straight into
a venus fly trap
goodhearted guys, who
could feed her the nile
from a golden spoon, who
would lasso stars and conquer nations
at her whim
become tumbleweeds
by the dozens, who
have offered that girl everything
begged her for the pleasure of ensuring
she never wants for a ****** thing
but what's it worth when all she wants is nothing?
(i kept my distance from the infection, once)

she's the one
who left her virtue in the circus
her victims in love
her past, inside plexiglass mirrors
her mother intoxicated
her father in the ground
her car crashed into a tree
but she's not complaining
she's just calling life as it happens
to waste her

(i kissed her, twice)
when i was 16
saige Mar 2018
when the photographs magnify
the good times with the worst
when they smear and blur and wobble
and it's too hard to see sepia
for what it was
for what it's worth
hold those snapshots
craddle, squeeze, caress
like babies
like a dying woman's hand
like shadows of a past reality
let the dams break
let the bawls rock you
to sleep or to insanity
whichever comes most
naturally
cheeks will tattle
via burst blood-vessels
eyelids may be swollen
for sunrises to come
your voice, gone
but it won't matter
no, not as you wonder
how many people
have wept themselves to death?
i wrote this at fifteen. should i be ashamed to say i can still relate to it?
saige Mar 2018
but counting footsteps
adds up to nothing
if they're not yours
still, i'd rather pace this floor
another hundred times more
than to wonder where you've
wandered
tonight
saige Mar 2018
october streets are cold
noses drip into our kiss
another smack seasoned of yesterday
trace of salt, a premonition
preparation for the tears
i will have to swallow
all the way home
all the way gone

i burn this block into my mind
buses, cement, river, bridges
a north wind brands my cheeks
as if red could keep me stranded

sandpaper lips
snag me back
brace me for the iron
i will scrape with my teeth
**** from my lip
keep from crying aloud
where the strangers might hear me

october streets are cold
but your shoulders are ice
i look back, twice
and i see them
and i hate that
kissing
was the only way you knew
to wave goodbye
saige Mar 2018
Goodbyes aren't for good
Only bad and
For granted
For, they are too brief
Forget how many
Days I knew you
It will always take years
To say
"So long"
And not be cut short
By backtracking
Still
I will never quit wishing
You well
Already, I'm missing you
Badly
But
Beneath the twinges
Of "don't go"
I don't know
How
Or when
Or where
Yet alone, why
I just know
We will meet again
In this ring of time
Because goodbyes
Aren't for good
saige Mar 2018
i'm home with my
cheek on your chest
head caught in clouds of
your hair
mixed with mine

i'm home
with your arms around me
over me, under me
rocking me, raising me
anchoring us
home
saige Mar 2018
I dared myself to jump
Because you wouldn't
Next page