"Wish on everything. Pink cars are good, especially old ones. And stars of course, first stars and shooting stars. Planes will do if they are the first light in the sky and look like stars. Wish in tunnels, holding your breath and lifting your feet off the ground. Birthday candles. Baby teeth." 
Torsos wrapped, spinal bows
Intertwined toes
A siren's call,
A song laced with verbal absinthe.
An earthbound angel.
Tied to my chest with a single ribbon,
The ebb and flow of her pain mixes with mine and
Softly I listen.
a ticking clock.
your hands were made for fixing.
my mouth was made for speaking
with eyes made for watching.
Moccasins dip in the milk
Puddled at your toes.
Your spine elongates and
You smile at the sun.
I forgot why I was angry.
I forgot I forgot I forget I've forgotten.
Geranium flying
Soaring through the air
Pirouetting roots,
The dirt and the
Petals
Taking their own courses
Settling farther than ever
From the apple tree.
Can we talk all night?
Please stay, I know you would
You'd be safe and warm and
comfy
and smelling only slightly of peas.
Could you please come a little bit closer
And cuddle a while
We don't even need to talk
We don't even need to whisper.
I'm no good with love poems
I'm better with the filth that
Candy coats this planet.
What I'm trying to say is,
I'm happy.
A perfect circle, she lay in it
and some pollen circled her nose,
but she didn't mind. It was soft.
The grass itched across her shoulder blades.
Her hands were in the air,
and she was reaching for the branches,
so very far up in the trees.
She was always out of reach.
In her mind this was a beautiful clearing,
she wasn't sure how others saw it but
it was what it was to her, and no one else.
She wished she had someone to share it with.
A muse
Someone for me
To inspire me
Someone so beautiful it hurts
If you look at them for too long
Someone whose words are so
perfectly formed
they pierce my brain and are tattooed there
Forever in black ink.
Your story is weak, she said to me one night.
You've forgotten punctuation and capitalization,
Your teen years are a bunch of run-on sentences
While your childhood lacks memory.
So I responded with,
If you think you can do better,
Rewrite my whole damn story yourself.
These years have proven nothing but failure.
But she didn't.
Instead she stubbed out her smoke,
And wished me a venomous good-bye,
Which I ate up in the hopes it would finally
bring me peace.
I'm vomiting these tears I cannot cry,
Would you please help me paint them on my eyes?
seven drops of rain
seven tiles broken
seven miles traveled
seven words unspoken
seven deadly sins
seven buttons to sew
seven blocks to walk
seven steps to you.
I hate poetry
About nature
And how beautiful it is
And I hate poetry
About the city
And how ugly it is
I hate cliched love poems that have
"I've never been in love" written all over them
Because love isn't sitting in a tree
And love isn't forever
I know my name
Is safe in your mouth
Just as yours
Is safe in mine.
Planets shine
The hum of the earth
Legs intertwined
Your mouth in mine.
There's a comely girl
With wild colours in her hair
Enticing lips
Alluring eyes
My own Lolita, a china doll
Held together
By the softest skin
A divine structure of
Bones,
Venus' envy
An awe-inspiring sculpture
My darling
My beau
My inamorata.
Like a stone and a slingshot
Like an apple and a tree
My other half,
My favourite person
You, complete, me.
A metaphor for your uselessness
I'm tired of your love
You can't be real
A mirage
A nightmare of damp corners
A lonely night spent on a rooftop
A song built on lies and false chords
A metaphor for my uselessness.
The end.
