She of lucid eyes
She of perilous mind
Cannot see through cross-fired thoughts
When sleep driven, amber coated throats
Drown words in writing and writing
In half-realized cries through the walls.
Hidden lines smeared with ink stain pillows
With regretful renditions of times when
Help was drawn from blood in her fingernails,
From her own echoes rebounded from wooden beams,
And heavy breathing and fast actions
Beneath her tongue.
Is that the picture his fingers trace?
Stolen upon the mantle, a past life,
A girl who had lips that upturned thin
And hollow eyes that you mistook for fine.
She sang him native ideas from the
Stanzas pulled across her arms,
Veins of truth sewn underneath a falsity
That laughs in temperance at her wish.
Call her clean and impure,
A free-fall of petals from her lashes, butterfly kisses
Of his lips against empty pockets of skin.
Apologies are all that she breathes
But convictions are what threads through her teeth.
Snakes writhe through her ears,
Spiders spin under her feet.
She reaches a hand to the end of the mirror
And finds she has carved a release.