we are no longer ...i fell in love with you on a tuesday. the autumn air lingered on my tongue and sense of rebirth tingled beneath the surfaces of my eyelids. i was a a breathing model of the solar system i made in grade school, mimicking movements without purpose. i instated thought above soul and head shadowed heart. my eyes were draped in the haze of self-deprecation and a doubt filled my lungs and spilled onto the floor at my feet, winding in rivers that only once more were absolved and recycled by my own central command.i smiled at you on a wednesday. our eyes were ions of opposite charge, and our electricity was evident. you gave me signals like a road sign; your were clear in your directions but passed so fast i often found myself feeling as though your traffic laws were in fact forgeries.i wrote my first poem for you on a friday. i aligned syllables and vowels and verfied consonants to splay my soul for my own eyes to see. i sculpted you with words, chiseling away at the ethereal eyes that igni
So She Can Forget That--She knows the French for hummingbird and he can divide fractions in his head,and none of it means a thing anymore.She's pictureimperfect and happilyneverafter, and he's playing guardian angel.She already knows all your secrets, and he's got too many of his own to havespace for any more.She knows just how to take his heart to pieces, and he could shakeherapartin the blink of an eye.She's made a mess of him, and somehow he still can't look away.She's unfamiliar to herself, but it's ok because she's learnt him off by heart,stitchbysinglestitch, and he's happier not knowing.She's clawing at her own skin to find buried silver, while he's happy enoughwith not being able to get her off his mind.She dances with the dark because she just can't tear herself a w a y; hedoes it because if he doesn't, he knows he'll lose her to it.She's slowly slippingthroughhisfingers and part
Helena's RevengeSmoky, lust-crinkled cataractsStretch tautly over blinding eyes--He does not love meBut I could shatter his scorched soulIn this second and not look back.And yet,This cruelly inspired charadeIs devastatingly convincing.I have mimed this sceneOver and over to the point of tediumIn forbidden daydreamsAnd now he surreally voicesMy half-conscious delusions.I am almost willingTo sacrifice myselfTo this façade...But no--Let him follow me, unfulfilledIn mindless devotionAs I once shadowed him,Desperate to the point of numbness.