haley Oct 2017
when she was eight years old
she
asked her mother
have you seen the girl with
lashes  like butterflies against sharp cheekbone branches
a dandelion sprouting from sludge covered gutters and streets
streets, where you feel that bitter bland nothingness in your stomach

it feels buttery to stare at her:
see how snow outstretches arms and twirls tippy toes, envies her grace
see how balloon sized raindrops pop, target the freckles on her arm
see how her forehead crinkles when she concentrates, nothing more than a beacon
(self proclaiming)
for she trickles with stars

when she was eight years old
her parent's violent protests slipped bruises under her skin like pennies in a coin slot.
but they could not contain the celestial girl tucked under her ribcage
she would still look at her like she was the breakfast sun on a saturday
whistling by the creak, catching glimpses of dresses from behind the legs of trees.
see how this is special love, sweet as strawberry fields under soft sun
they would never feel on their forked, sour tongues
...seeing purse dressed, flowery-folds,
knows the pleasure, -heaven holds.

Standing proud, -cocksure his breast,
exhausted her, laugh-ter, -nothing left.

Weakly submissive, exhilarated now pressed,
emboldened by she, guardedly bereft...

No strawberry, cakes, honey, grape,
you know what's coming;
Marco Buschini Dec 2016
Into the wonderment of your autumnal mind.
Where the skin of your grief sheds its leaves.
Is the song of your sea bound into colourful light?
The Shepherd breaches the flock of your dreams,
And the pastures breathe a sigh of relief,
As your tears of morning dew
Glisten the parched landscape.
Does your bouquet of pubis
Lay wistfully in the wilderness?
The skies of blue that reside in your eyes
Serenades the coming of the tide,
Harvesting the fruit of our labour of love.
Is this a wind of smile that turns into a voyage of valiancy?
A flock of thoughts liberated with a cry of exclamation
As your fears of autumn blue
Are exiled into the rapacious wind.
Next page