sirenswrath

Screams rip from my throat tear my soul tear Flesh the taste metallic and bitter so like this Hate This Loathing seering my veins I am Weak I think to Mother so empty so impotent a Thing With tender rage I nurse the beast lend it strength to raze all Peace Sow that fragile continent with sweat and Salt I am left abandoned weeping holding only my Ravaged Shell

I was young you know perhaps too young But pain it ages a soul so swiftly deftly it endeavors to scar why would you wound me simply for not being your ideal you thought I was once but now you turn away angered by imagined slights lonely perhaps as I am Do not struggle with words love your eyes speak for you And I regret what they ask can't you see love your mold will be devoured in my flames

rain drums dull fingers Mozart on tin comfortable wash of Memory the music is Ours Growing Richer with Time I drink in your touch skin lips sink sweetly into your Harbor warm in the knowledge of all that We Are

thrill of raven silk on bare skin you thread the lengths through work worn fingers tugging delicately I'll be your Goddess love your dragon eyed sculpture pale as marble my Beauty is ageless Worship if you'd like the Curves of a Woman

I look without seeing At this cold Stone monument Before me Smooth Polished granite Silent In impenetrable sleep Lush Green grass Springs up From the not yet settled earth A glimpse Of struggling life In this slumbering landscape Of shattered dreams

Light Dances off My pristine beauty The shimmering Result Of Calm Fury Come Closer Beloved The icicle summons Drip From soft pale Siren lips Taste me And be consumed By my terrible Frigid Flames

I remember Your strong Gentle Hands How you caressed My hair Lengths Of silken blonde Your lips Murmuring Doll Doll Your liquid brown Eyes Brimming With seeming adoration I am Now the fragile Porcelain Figure You once claimed Me to be My face delicate A fine boned Framework Sensitively chiseled Ravaging illness The Master Sculptor Stark Pale alabaster His medium of choice A light Dusting Of honey colored freckles Dance Across my cheeks Dark eyebrows arched In perfection Over Innocent Raven lashed Almond set eyes Soft lips Bloom Richly pink And full A startling bud Of color The long sunlit lock

Two years Have passed Since We lay low She Who numbered Our generations Four Mother Grandmother Great grandmother Four Precisely calculated Ounces Lost At the exact moment Of Death Ounces Not credited To fluids Released Or last breaths Sighed Scientific Proof Of the Soul According to some Carelessly skimmed Half forgotten Article Leafed through And entertained While in the stuffy Confines Of a Waiting Room Like any other All loud silence And jarred nerves The very Canned Serenity And vague Monotony Of these cells Prove perfect To ponder What exactly It is that constitutes Death If not the still

do not be angry with me love but I cannot ignore Them these memories or ghosts    (I cannot tell which) the walls are saturated with Them    (They know            I am here) I shut my eyes tight tight clutch the sheet child's ruse of sleep but Their breath whispers stale on my cheek fists punctuate dark wraith shrieks bruises bloom on pale chill skin a Burden's punishing mark    (I could not leave Them) I hear Her cry my Mystery my Daughter who made herself known in a rush of salt and blood held only by Him the Thief my constant companion He could not have me so took Her instead how can I be guil

there was a time when tall trees enchanted me. I walked through them holding your hand, as a child might. you pushed me on the swing ...and all I saw behind my closed eyes was the warmth of the sun piercing my skull. - - - later I knew what I would never find, after having realized I knew what I was looking for after all- a look in your eyes that said I can see the darkness inside. and in that depth I can see the star shape of your soul.

the alkaline taste of your mouth transfers to my lips, making my body acidic and inhospitable. I can see in my hair the change, tiny black strands that shift among the red. My heartbeat slows and while I wanted to be seen as beautiful it gets harder and harder. Please, I say, don't touch me anymore.

it is midnight and the clocks are chiming in the almost-silence. the sky feels like rain and somewhere, some girl is dancing and laughing and smiling, but she's certainly not me. our hearts are cold. they've been sleeping, curled into themselves for too long without a blanket or a pillow or a smile to fall back on. it's midnight and the sky feels like rain and there's going to be a storm later, but it won't match the storms inside, that's for sure. we are biting our nails, smiling and pretending nothing is wrong and saying, yes, darling, i'll get rid of this horrible habit in the morning. it'll all be better tomorrow, except it's midnight

listen: fall makes me think of leaving and of apple cider, though i never liked apple cider. but i liked the idea of it. listen: two years ago i met a boy as fragile as dead leaves who called me his little spring girl. (i'd always liked autumn the best.) he kissed the two soft dimples on the small of my back and told me helikedme helovedme hewantedme. and oh, by the way, "everything good must come to an end." listen: on our one year anniversary we picked out two pumpkins and i drew elephants on them for us to carve. he cut his out so aggressively that it lost its shape. lopped off tusks and broken trunks became just a large, jagged ho