Writings of a creature
Standing behind the stone-cold counter,
she jams another piece in the squeezer–
The size of a fist – it turns and twists,
extracting her life like a weary weep.
She smiles at a million faces,
but their eyes never meet;
they order and hurl abuses,
like it’s silence they are trying to seduce
At last, lively streets die down –
Another night spent in servitude,
traded for a livelihood.
And the cold midnight wind bites,
chilling her tear-streaked cheeks
as she crawls home.
On a restless night, I caught myself carving in
my flesh another one of your sins.
My skin, splitting apart like the red sea.
revealing beneath, fraying nerves.
A thousand needles pierce through my mind –
no feeling could be this kind.
When you made me duller than my blooded blade
and wishing for nothing but to fade
I watch my reflection in the shower rain,
and the crimson drags the ichor to the drain.
These scars make me wonder – was it all in vain?
Trembling gleam
illuminates her silk silhouette
like the sunrise gracing the mountain,
and a blanket over my cold body.
Her warm fingertips on my skin
burn her name deep within,
flickering light shrouding
our bodies, a new world
They blossom in spring
vulnerable imperfections,
each flaw: a snowflake
conjoined made perfect.
Wild hearts bathed in delight,
dancing desires united,
locked fingers as destinies sealed
by the golden candlelight.
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