the past is awake.

not the break wave, but i am pinned against the pier
watching blood seep from new blooms.
i am torn from myself,
muscle is ripped from bone: anyway, i
am alive and i have been. i match my lipcolor
to my nailcolor - orange. call out the past.
loneliness sours everything -
orange ya glad you never loved me, bluesky?
i would have brought you along, to my done-day;
you could have been the executioner,
and i could have been the witch, doomed to drown!
you could have put me down yourself -
crushing my narrowness
into waterscape under the weight of your horizon.
doesn't that sound ****?
i would have thanked you, and you would have
turned dark with rain.
anyway, loneliness sours everything.

i am still a grateful witch.