Muted and pressed against the rubble
Undbraid youself from those cold stones
And sing to me words that bear no weight,
no meaning.
He asked me what it was to regret, to wish and break so wholly all in the same moment.
And I said it's like wasting under a summer sun,
screams pushing against a parched throat but not caring enough to feel them.
And you are the glass I shattered on the floor
swelling rage, fast and frenzied.
And you are the shards my body swallowed
my skin too soft, too forgiving.
"Perhaps I'll flee to the forest, live in the shade and leaves. I can build a home of twigs and wishes from dandelions, special things like that," she says.
"My eyes are sore of brick walls and concrete streets."
I imagine a wedding day, your friends drunk on champagne, my veil ruined by the rain.
Your lips against the tawny fabric of his skin,
Remember girl, wild hearts can't be broken, only tamed.
And I wonder if in moments plagued by insomnia, I come to you.
If the ghosts of my hair against your shoulder blades lull you to sleep.
I only want to feel
eyes tracing the length
of my tender spine
Hands unbraiding themselves
from bottles and cigarettes
to tug at my shallow hips
And in all my fits of concern and regard, I surrendered to the most persistent of human tendencies.
To poison all that is innocent, to contaminate that which is pure, to destroy what is loved and engendered.
Oh, how I manage it so thoroughly.
To char the paper until it's fragile, black
then grieve so wholly as it crumbles in my hands.
And so I am left with this curios ennui, this dispassionate remnant of my former self.
Sincerity spills from your sinewy limbs
and I can feel the rest of my life in every blink of your eyes
But you hold tension in your fair knees, my love.
Let it go, let it go.
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