journeyone hand on the doorknobMore Like This
it smells of nutmeg and lead
leading me on
there's a secret carved into the wood
right on the other side, where my hands
don't reach, can't reach
will you reach out to me?
i swallowed the cookies
before grabbing the key
is me in my nutshell
on a sea of foreign tears
(i don't remember the girl
don't remember crying)
while i nearly die of thirst
but never quite reach you...
lovely poison, come to me
i have wandered this world and i need
to see the other kingdom
where fairies dance and doors are no more
locked to me, i'm always the right size
and i'm a wonder
just like everything else
let me be
i'm not going to lie and say she was perfect.her skin was spotted with what she passed off as freckles,More Like This
but what were really scars from a thousand summer suns
as she ran about outside,
climbing trees and treading rivers,
pretending to be an american bomber
in the midst of WWII.
she kept crimson stains on pearl pink lips,
which always had the habit of getting on her teeth
because she put on make-up after dressing in her car
and ordering coffee in every way she hated it
as she drove to the record store three times a day,
ignoring her job downtown.
she owned four and a half hairbrushes exactly,
i took count on the first night i stepped into that whirl-wind room,
though her lopsided up-dos of messy blonde hair revealed just how much her fingers
never broke the dust.
she had these lovely fragile hands
that showed each and every vein and bone,
the type of hands made for tearing boys like me apart.
how could i have even expected to survive,
a paper poet
held against a reckless flame?
.the sun's got cancer.More Like This
look at it
"she lacks fantasy..."
ray gone altogether.
chemo grows the grass,
slice me up with stares,
a lifetime away from innocence,
reveal me from sight,