“Scrying Mirror”

Sometimes I do not think that I deserve to be loved.

I am strange,

paltry,

ugly.

I take swords to my chest, you see,

and I plunge them deep

whenever the corners of my mouth lift too high,

for my own liking.

I then pull them out and push them in again

and again

and again.

The pain of it lingers, though I stopped crying out a long time ago.

The pain of cracking my own chest open,

and hoping beyond hope that I like what I see.

And the hope that you, darling, like it too.

“The Haunting”

A darkness fleeting.

Your own light bulb,

crushed under your own two feet.

A smear of blue.

A drop of red,

on your stomach,

the side of his bed.

A danger,

a relic.

“Convince me,”

he says.

You can still see his voice,

a shadow,

dripping in barbed desire.

Something tangled up,

between your thighs,

around your pretty neck.

It was only the sheets.

 

 

“Sailorman’s Hymn”

Perched on a yellow line,

a key wedged under her tongue.

She’s waiting,

for what I do not know.

She’s surrounded,

by bottle brush tails,

and burnt orange coats.

Plenty of suitors,

come to play,

their throats wrapped in fluorescent scales.

But she is still in the dark.

There was this man,

you see,

a brave thing.

He was the lock to her key.

 

“Divide and Conquer”

Cross-legged in your basement,

arms outstretched.

You didn’t know I was there.

I heard,

your footsteps

puttering above my head.

Can you hear me?

Breathing,

on your neck,

but I wasn’t the one who put it there.

No,

I was in your attic,

lounging on some cans of blue spray paint.

I heard you singing,

in the shower beneath my feet.

I froze,

because she was there too.

Oh,

that just wouldn’t do.

I remembered the carving knife,

on your cutting board.

You should of seen my face just then,

lit up and glowing.