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O Lover,

how can you run

past the rhymes that slip through the creases

in your palms only to

etch them into my memory?

Yesterday

time sank fangs into my ankle, left tattoos

like heartbreak. You touched my face

and I stepped back,

out of reach.

She was a Corpse Reviver No.1:

sweeter than her name

with a punch that would leave my head reeling
in the morning. There were lit candles
that smelled like apples and
honey. I breathed in the burnt fruit like it was the first time

I pressed my face to her neck.

Outside the leaves blew against the window

with the incoming storm; inside, my fingers

pressed into the pillow on my lap with
every word she whispered,
offhanded adjectives trailing through the foyer

to mingle with the dust on the baseboards.

It wasn't until the air stood silent that the house roared with age,

neglected after so many years. I stood

and felt the tingle of electricity in the air,

my bare feet grounding me

to the radiance of her alter. Nouns dribbled over my lips

like daisy petals plucked and dropped

under our yew tree. It was then that she rose

her blackened fingertips to my cheek

and let me cradle her absence.

I loved her once

didn’t I                      fall into her arms

instead of to the floor          didn’t I

forsake bruised limbs for hands grasped to my shoulders

          but

she always loved the blurred black

and blue of worlds pulsing under the skin of her forearms

of her hips and throat and

so she painted herself          hung

on the wall

next to the antique mirror          I stood

back         then

I only had her reflection.

I took her hand

and poured gold in her veins.

There was nothing more I could do.

May sat heavy in my hands like a grapefruit

already starting to spoil. She was
laughing at something over my shoulder

and I knew that if I chanced turning

I'd have to turn back to her
inching further out of my reach. Tonight

we stand at the corner of evening and night and
my heart beats to every pulse of the moths wings

as they wait for the light above our heads

to let them cast shadows

on our faces. My breath comes out in time with the streetlights

blinking on – one by one. The world unravels

to let the dark creep between blades of grass,

turning yards into fields of malachite.

There were great meadows there once, before the houses.

When I moved here we'd roll in the wild flowers,

face the sun no matter the direction it’d take us.

Do you remember? I kissed you then. Now
with the light gone and only the moths to play witness
and our silence to stretch between us,

I turn away.

She let the glass fall with a flick of her wrist,
condensing the air to an acrid twitch
and rendering my vision to pinpoints as
I watch the reflection of her eyes careen to earth.
Will you reach your hand up to my cheek
and read the wounds you stashed inside my corneas?
Or will you stare at the echoes at our feet
until my hand reaches for yours
across this shattered display of moments?

Perhaps it’s because I miss you, the real you

or the thought of you.

It’s not like I know the difference.

You continue to fight the system,
I know that you miss him,
I don't know why,
You refuse to let go,

Of the dream that faded away,
You continue to cause pain,
When it can go away,
No matter how hard,
You scream at the sky,
He ain't ever comming back,
He died for his cause,
What he believed,
Just because you won't agree,
Won't cause him to be beamed back,
From the past battles he fought,
And the one he did return,
But in a box and uniform,
To his last place,
Where he shall forever stand guard,
Oneday he will stand guard next to you,