Yours was a one size fits all kind of love My starless black and your cloudy blue Your square in my star shaped void Leaves empty points Yours was a copy paste kind of love Stamped to the tacky canvas of my soul Slipping and sliding on a bloody mess Your vision unwavered Yours was …
Let’s go to our sacred place, over the bridge where the tulips smile Touch the silk and handmade lace and stay awhile Let’s go to the café without a name, under the domes in mosaic shade Drink spiced tea from a tiny glass, and nibble on the candied figs Let’s go sit under trees by …
And that’s when she ran through the buttercups Laughing as the wind blew, her dress catching on the stalks Of wildness ahead of her Limbs falling over limbs, tumbling into fields of yellow Fingers grasping everything, petals that she never knew Dropped her ring into the stream, endless depths of flowing green Sunlight dancing on …
He kept the long ago wrapped in the softest tissue paper Now his hands gingerly opened the faded velvet fold A fragile petal corpse, shriveled inside her snowy coffin Her veiny amethyst colour truly once was azure bold A salty tear will not wake the sleeping beauty in his palm No bigger than his thumbnail …
His shipwreck haunts me tonight, a waking lullaby I’m obsessed and it summons me down to play My dress vanishes into treacle blue, anchor heavy Pearls glide from me, an eternal translucent loop “There’s nothing for you down there” but he’s waiting With cerulean kisses and that long familiar touch His cobalt kingdom envelops me …
And he knelt at the graveside clawing at the crimson dirt Was misery ever so wretched? Or silence so gnawing? The earth as thirsty and fruitless as his soul without her The tender roses dried up, their pinks a brittle unloved russet And he spoke, demanding his answers from them Words uttered, a singsong mantra, …
Down by the riverside, hides all the white lies By the muddy bank he stood with bloody hands and ruined suit Down by the riverside, hides all the white lies His reflection locked and murky is not the prince in her fairy story Down by the riverside, hides all the white lies For in …
They eyed her, wandering abandoned in the darkness She, a guiding light where the two paths merged Their white princess, leader of the sacred armies Naked feet tenderly absorbing the ferny floor And as a dappled deer she sensed her fragility The feathery touch of the breeze told her they had come It grazed her …
A lingering melody begins once more, out of key though I know it well Skinny twisted trees caught in fractured mirrors and ephemeral fairground lights In the snowy park, phantom horses prancing into the white, leaping from shadows A faded mirage of mighty hooves, their glossy veneers chipped and shedding Rough flakes of precious gold …
And they scattered as she stumbled through the gleaming square A black and white movie and her red satin shoes stained by rain Dress trailing on the silver lined pavement, tendrils damp to her shoulders Plumes of misty feathers rising in a low flustered cloud above her head An elusive snowy feather passes ghostlike through …