Half God Half Devil

Your body stretches towards mine

ill flower

with roots as hands

but thorns growing on

the inside covered in sticky

red brine

born this way but

twisted into your own creation

something

I couldn’t help

but love

your throat covered in

the sins

you couldn’t save

I loved those too

your wrists awash in

good behavior

preached with

living torture

made with lines

drawn in the

sand of my favorite

shore

made of you

misery marigold

“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.