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“Get out of my way,” she said,
the daughter of autumn you threw out of this village,
spat on with your undying prejudice.
Move aside, beggars of chance.
You only wanted my blood for a ritual,
to bring someone back to life;
an important figure in your twisted rose-thorn history.
Now that the job is done, you forget you ever knew me;
a winter-born child with foxglove irises.
You cast me away into the dark sea like
a baby in a basket, an orphan; useless, Moses of Egypt.
Oh people of Nara; even though I helped you once
against a plague, a famine with my witch-heritage;
the power of healing, now
you pretend you don't care at all.

Well, you know what?
If you don't mind the weeping, screams
of infants; of dying mothers on New Year's Eve,
then why should I risk everything for your ungrateful heart?
I wont; I won't put anything I own or hold dear
at risk for the people of this village..
You can burn for all I care in  the wake of your dishonesty.
Covered in ashes, yellowing lace;
I'll be the last one standing and
maybe then you'll remember my name.
But it'll be too late; all those elegant
rooftops you were so proud of will
collapse in a domino effect because
you failed to take care of them properly.
Mr. Mayor, you failed to protect your people.
And now; glassy-eyed, the citizens of this
mosaic-looking city will die; one by one,
because the gods hate injustice.

And I don't care..
I really don't give a damn anymore;
which way is heaven.
All the sparrows have flown; left
my mother's farmhouse, heading
south for an eternal winter,
singing autumn wedding songs.
I set them free because
I just couldn't live with the guilt,
stabbing its claws in my Okinawa chest.
Nothing should stay hidden; caged, locked
away, not even in a shelter for too long.
See, I refuse to be like everyone else;
sitting here, watching as innocence dies;
little by little, a rose-leaf execution.

Samurai-style, suicide pact; vile..
Did you just expect me to lie down,
let you trample over my father's grave;
among the lilies and daffodils,
among the koi pond nymphs?
I won't give up my last salt-water lily
breath for your makeshift funeral.
You cowards never really liked us..
Our family was shunned, that's the truth.
But still he told me once after I was bullied in school,
“Daughter of mine, take all your anger,
your pain and mold it into something beautiful.
Promise me you'll use all those tears
and birdhouse dust, the ash of birthday wishes;
take it, use it because someday your
enemies will pray for your help.”
Surprisingly, he was right..

However, I'm done being the mat you step on,
exiting the temple; the place
you go to worship the sun-god on lavender hill.
I don't want to be a last resort for your temper,
someone you only remember when
you need a quick lighthouse rescue.
So go clean up your own mess, Nara;
city of fog and ash, city of
suicide  notes, falling from
the sky like white-fox snow.

Do you want forgiveness?
“I'm sorry we took your innocence;
your Sunday picnics, birthday cake
frosting, your father's arms.
Sorry, girl; we took your childhood,
turned it upside down during
a mad king, psychotic emperor's reign.”
Oh but it's too late for that..
What do I have left now that
everything is starched, burnt to a crisp;
damp hair falling from my skull?
“A wicked doll”; that's what you
all call me behind my back as
I walk to the well, get water
for your hospital care.
Hypocrites, have you no shame?
I'm not the savage here!

When I scream, standing barefoot in an elfin forest,
my kimono ripped by the jealous breeze and
strawberry blood streaming like rivers of
angry adolescence down my wrist;
all the crows will hear.
I'm not a sorceress but that's what you claim
so that's what I'll be..
I'll cause a storm; Wendigo horror,
kitsune fire, I'll smash the glass heavens,
ivy clouds in my hands like pottery.
Oh I'll cook up a storm; disaster,
with wild ginger, snakebite poison, dragon's blood.

Oh Nara, city of burning maidens;
scorched virginity, you want forgiveness?
Try fairy tales because I'm done
with your counterfeit illusions.
Capture the moon, boy, with your skeptic camera lens.
Sharpen the image of an already stunning landscape
with your vintage frame, salamander pencil, spirit-brush.
It's weird but somehow, you're not as reachable
as the people whose pictures you take; whose
souls you cage, unawares, in an instant with a flash.
Are you a specter or a friend?
A stranger; you're handsome, but keep to yourself.
You think maybe if you hide
behind the scenes, you won't
get hurt or cause any damage.
It's tragic; what happened to you, really?

You don't have to tell me right away..
I'm prepared to wait, bide my time.
See, I don't give up so easily.
“What are you, a ghost?” you ask, taunting.
No, Kaleo, you're the mysterious one here..

Give me the moon and I'll make you dream.
Paint me a pretty picture out of a car-wreck scene.
Kaleo, it's great how you have this gift;
to turn pain into paradise, blood into flowers.
So easily, it seems; you make children smile,
even when they're afraid of the monsters
in the jungle across from the interstate.
You tell them, “Go hide under the sugar-palms.
The rain will make you invisible to them; the ghosts,
hunting the woods for mango-sweet bones.”
Oh and it works, believe it or not.
Those kids, they trust you to get them home safely.

Kaleo, you're my inspiration but I'm invisible..
Boy, you don't notice me in class; at school,
in our adjoining middle-class neighborhoods.
On Sunstrip Drive, you walk by me;
never say hi, dark eyes forward.
Oh just once, I wish I could wreck your self-control.
Just once, I wish I could topple
your walls down, those athletic shoulders.
Maybe you'd want me, if I tried a little harder..

To be noticed, do I have to say it out loud?
You're my type, island-prince, native-dream.
Hope to God you won't hear my heart beating
when we're in gym, play-wrestling and yet,
there you are; holding me down on the mat, your hand on my chest.
Give me a warning, will you; when you come around, unannounced?
I'm in a pair of ratty sandstone jeans,
my shirt off; cast aside, on the dirty floor of my bedroom.
And my mom's in the kitchen, telling you, “Good morning”
as some embarrassing song plays idly on my stereo.
Boy, why now do you notice me?

“Maybe I was curious,” you say,
smirking when I finally come out of hiding.
“Do you know anything about film
or are you just bluffing?”
Oh boy, you're stupidly cute, annoying as hell.
I'll prove you wrong, show you my talent is
just as bright as yours.
Different, maybe we are, on the surface.
Your friends would never know, suspect
we have anything in common.
But that's just how shallow they are.

You follow me after dark, shooting a documentary;
we travel around this eerie island,
looking for ghosts, two-faced phantoms, women in white.
You say, “You're not scared,” like you're honestly surprised.
I tell you my dad was a ghost-hunter,“paranormal investigator”,
dragging me everywhere he thought was haunted.
“I'm used to this whole drama; creepy stairs,
plantation homes, burial grounds.
Boy, it takes a lot to get me running.”
But to my surprise, you look amused;
maybe even a little impressed.
For once, Kaleo, you're not making fun of me;
a fatally awkward kid at your side.

It's pitch-black and we lose our flashlight.
We stumble around, finally sitting down
on a bench in the middle of nowhere,
admitting we're the worst detectives.
Boy, it's nice to hear you laugh,
see your almond-moon eyes shining.
“Won't your mom be worried?”
you ask, looking at me like
there's a possibility we might not get home.
I sigh loudly, try not to notice
the shivers running up my arms.
There are shadows of bat wings
over our heads between the banana leaves but
I don't want you to think I'm a coward, friend.
“Of course she'll be worried, but
there's not much I can do, is there?”

“It must be nice,” you tell me.
“To have a parent who cares.”
Kaleo, I've known you since 5th grade.
You were raised by your grand-dad.
But I never asked why or how you fared.
Truly, I thought it was none of my business;
unless you wanted to be my friend, let me in.
Now I'm ashamed..
I wanted you for shallow reasons; those
feather-black eyes, like night-fruit,
your lips against mine.
Slowly, I realize I'm no different
than the people at school
who ignore me, who I ignore in return.

“But we all go blind..”
We fall asleep; your head on my shoulder, slipping,
my hand on your arm.
In the morning, someone wakes us up;
a construction worker.
He says, “Get up, you crazy kids!”
And we cross the highway,
make it back to the city;
still misty under a war-paint sunrise.
Boy, you say, “I'll see you around”,
take the camera from my hands.
And you must've seen it; this look that says,
“I don't really believe you” because
you punch my arm playfully.
“I promise,” you add with a wink.
Kaleo, I can never forget
what it's like to feel tongue-tied;
standing there, dumbstruck
at the gate outside your house.

Monday morning, will we be more than classmates?
Island-prince, grant my wish.
Give me a  warning, please..
“But hey,” you say, cornering me in the hall
between English and lunch.
“You told me not to be obvious.”
Your voice like a whisper
of heaven; of all that I want,
wind on the mountaintops;
boy, you sure know how to pile on the guilt,
make me sin just to say I had you someday.

Years from now, can you see us,
riding around in a school bus to college?
A basketball game somewhere heated, somewhere dark;
friend, can you imagine me running by your side,
being part of the team that made you popular?
No, I can't, boy; but you say
I'm already in your court.
“We're the same,” you insist, wrapping a hand
around the nape of my neck.
Your fingers pressing lanai heat on my flesh;
orange-red-white, firelight, wet dreams.
But island-prince, I don't want to jinx anything..

For us, this is surreal; a weekend in your backyard,
a hammock, swinging lazily at dusk.
My hands at your collar, unbuttoning your polo shirt;
I've waited so long, suddenly I'm nervous.
You smile, run a hand through my hair, say,
“Bring down the moon, I don't care.”
Whatever that means, I'm not breathing..
Kiss me hard, island-prince.
Make time stop, slow it down for me.

Almond-shaped eyes, round half-moons;
you and I, boy, we're different and still the same.
People can give us all the trouble the want,
the criticism they need to feel important
because to me, Kaleo, it doesn't matter.
I have you now, native-fire.
I have you now, last Indian summer
in this universe of train-wreck romance.
Nothing else matters, turn me over now;
warm hands on my hip-bones,
sunset lips on my shoulder-blades.
Island-prince, slow it down for me..
Kaleo
another Hawaii-based poem but this time, from a gay boy's POV ;)
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Lost time; I thought I heard the clock
break on the cobblestones, the tower shake.
Were you there this morning as the city collapsed, oh angel of death?
Were you glaring up at an ash-flower heavens,
threatening them for keeping us apart,
for forcing us to break all contact; nine months and counting?
Beautiful disaster, did you do something stupid like that;
your ice-blue orbs glowing with childish anger
as you cursed your family; a league
of star-dust wings, paper souls, hurricane?

“Don't patronize me!”
The fire in your chest, darling, is still
strong, even after the fact; an argument
with your father up above.
Still glowing, your heart is a phoenix,
trapped inside a sheltered Victorian rib-cage.
I can see it beating its ruby wings painfully
through your shirt and I approach, pressing
my hand against the wound; the smudge of your anxiety.
“Calm down,” I whisper.
You could never keep cool under pressure.
Friend, and you're far too young to break become
like pieces of blue porcelain on the vintage floor.

“I'm sorry,” you reply, your tone lowered
as your pulse slows under a beam of electric turquoise.
It's sage and sea-salt, mixed with sunlight;
this magic I use to calm your nerves.
And you said you didn't believe in anything
when we first met but now you finally see
that you can't win a losing battle.
I remember you joked, friend,
“I don't know which of us is more stubborn.”
A real smile appeared on your face then, sad but hopeful.
Hell, if I had a heart still beating bright
flesh in my half-demon, half consequential human chest;
I'd grab your hand, boy, and say,
“Let's run until we reach the coast,
until there's no more earth and sky;
just mermaid wine for miles and
tonight, nobody can give you up.”

I wish I could say these things and still keep my word, boy.
I won't let you fall from grace;
be swallowed up by disapproval, shame.
Beautiful disaster, I wish I could say
we could be together and still keep our spirits pure.
But angel-boy, I'm sorry to admit, that
this is the truth; we can't be true to ourselves and
please the world all at the same time.
We have to leap into the blue,
sometimes lose a few people who never really cared,
to find the ones who'll do anything
to make sure we're whole and safe.
Dark Gabriel, the ones who stay and fight, struggle
with us in the deep end, are the ones who matter most;
the survivors, boy, unchangeable phoenix allies.

Rising from the ashes, you don't need
to be a superhero to be strong.
After everything has passed and  died;
one summer after another, fainting
under a damaging heat-wave, then
winter's golden-white corpse like
Sleeping Beauty, resurrected; after everything
in our Motel California past,
I still believe you're the purest, bluest form
of innocence that ever did touch my skin.

Make me better, make me raw..
September, though it's a wounded month;
Vietnam diary, it is not the end of our world, boy.
This Presbyterian law says we're doomed;
cast-off lords, crowns tossed into a reckless flame.
“That's what happened to you, isn't it?" you ask me
and unexpectedly, there are tears in your eyes.
Oh Amber-light, you never cried in front of me.
Always tough, calculated; boy, you tried your hardest
not to let your true self show.
But complicated heart, emotions don't make us weak.
They make us human and you should
be proud that you're capable of
feeling these trade-mark dreams at all..
Some people aren't as strong, trust me;
your big brother, for instance.
He can be a real jerk, you know this better than anyone.
But still, you stick up for him
because at the end of the day;
you're the only saving grace that blond crow has
in this steam-punk nightmare.

Amber-light, it's so tragic..
“I can't leave him,” you confess.
“Even if it costs me my reputation;
this carefully sewn-up secret in my chest,
I'll follow him anywhere.”
Boy, I have to admit I'm jealous.
You don't believe me, say,
“You can have this whole world,
this city and the one next-door;
San Francisco, New York, bowing at your feet!”
Oh this is your reasoning,
your excuse for thinking you're not my type.
But Amber-light, the truth is;
you're the only constellation I see, hovering
over me in the sky, no matter where I'm standing.

Shoving me playfully, you add,
“You're the world's cockiest bastard.”
Still, I smile, even as you
rub my arms against a wall.
I want you to turn me into a ghost,
boy, so that I can haunt you later on..

You know me so well; underneath all
the gravel, the street-wise glamor.
You tell me, “You're just a boy who wanted to be loved.
Different, misunderstood; you're just like everyone else.”
And I think that's a funny thing to say
because when people look at me, they see an alien.
They're curious but don't stay long, boy.
You were the only one who treated me
as more than just a pretty face; a gem, adventure.
British lace, Asian silk; I'm half-and-half,
boy; but to you, it doesn't matter.
And you say I'm beautiful because
I don't apologize for being myself.
Oh that is how you think of me..
Daylight prince, you thought that
you knew what was really hiding
beneath all the Great Gatsby
glitter of my wicked stone-age.

You thought I was your saving grace,
a demon-half-saint who would
pull you out of the shadows.
Yet, still you don't get it, friend.
When I've run out of time;
wasting fortune cards, jasmine spells
on dying love; you fill in the space.
You give me a reason to keep on trying.
And I try, boy; I try my hardest to find
a cure for this rotten disorder; this
faded goodbye, razor-back loneliness.
But when you can't die because
you're cursed with Holy Water;
paint from the Pearly Gates in your veins, your blood;
when you're an eternal scar on the face of this Good Earth,
then how do you forget the one
you can't own, the one you want most?

“If only we could die together,” you say.
I laugh, sling back the champagne.
“Yeah, if only; give me your name, I'll write an epitaph.”
You can tell me what you want
the inscription to say, maybe:
“Here lies the angel who fell in love with Death.”
Wouldn't that be tragic, melodramatic?
You roll your eyes and I have to admit
the thought did crossed my mind.
Daylight prince, if you knew how this would end;
with fire, family ties broken,
sorrow sleeping peacefully on your jade lash-line;
if you knew, boy, that there would be a scar
on your neck, the number 4; would you still
want me, the love-child of saints and Greek myths,
at your side, holding your hand?
Hey little darkling, you can rest in peace tonight
on your bed of dried October leaves, Southwestern quilts.
Sandy-haired, lost Vanderbilt; you can sleep peacefully,
eight hours straight, both eyes closed because
tonight I'm killing all the monsters for you..
Yeah, sun-streaked lover, I promise you'll be
able to walk in the light of day again.
I know you get tired of leaping from rooftop to rooftop
in this insomniac dream-scape; anemic city, bleeding carnations.
But I promise I won't let you down this time..
I'll trap Ameterasu's power in a bottle of lamp-shade gin.
Mixing it well, spider-house friend;
I'll make an antidote, cure your PTSD for real.

I know you struggle with it, still..
Even though you're stubborn, I see
the liquid trauma in your Saturn orbs.
Oh what a nuisance, those demons of
the Steampunk Age; 1891 and so on..
Friend, starlight over Bethlehem;
you think maybe this is the end of innocence
tonight as you die in your own skin;
apple-red lips, so alone, tired autumn bones.
But no, I promise, sandstone heart;
you'll still be visible, if not silent
when morning breaks the heavens above
like Bangkok china, lotus vases
crashing to an aged temple floor.

In a million pieces, you shatter;
stark white and indigo,
March-fire, but it isn't over..
Immortality in a cup; spill it over
the balcony, vines and poor pigeons below.
You say you don't want it but
it's too late, isn't it, solitary angel?
Oh it's dark inside this head of mine..
For centuries, I've wanted a companion;
be it a blue-eyed or red-haired one.
But perhaps, I went too far, thinking,
“He'll need me because I'm his master.”

“You cocky bastard,” you laugh when
I tell you the truth, years later.
I thought it'd infuriate you, friend.
I thought you'd start a fight,
knowing now I had taken your youth,
sealed it up in a Manila envelope with
candle wax branding my name;
wet pigeon-blood initials on your face.
Midnight-mistake, I thought
you'd beg me to kill you with a blade
dipped in nightshade, poison-water;
or threaten me yourself, with
your frost-bitten hand wrapped around my throat.
But you did no such thing.
No, prairie-boy; blond, razor-tongued, glittering
wild-hazel eyes; you merely whispered,
“Well, the damage is done.”

Tipping back your glass of bourbon,
you drank away your thoughts,
acting as though you didn't care
that you can never grow old, have children, move on.
Clockwork star, at that moment;
I thought, “Perhaps I have ruined him.”
And I started wondering how I could turn back time,
set everything in motion, make it all right.
“Is there a way?” I asked the witch-doctors in the Quarter.
“Is there a way I can give him back his life?”

“Drive this into his heart,” they said,
handing me a blade of Acacia wood.
“He'll die and reincarnate,”
the Haitian prince explained.
“He's a doppleganger, see; a ghost-twin.”

Slave-chanting; that night, I actually wished for sleep,
a human type of a coma because
boy, I was tortured and wanted
to escape the guilt and longing in my spider-web mind.
Imagination, lies; I could tell you it's for the best,
I could brush a hand through your wheat-blond hair and
sweep my lips against your cognac-studded mouth,
make you think that's all I want; your body beneath my own.
Then when you're weak enough, when you're convinced
this is just another menage en tois;
you, me and the ghost of our youth, then I'll drive
the wood into your heart.

I could just imagine it, hearing you gasp
your last late autumn breath in my ear; a whisper of betrayal.
“Why did you do this to me?” The silent question; my answer,
“Because I was young and weak, lonely,
depressed with the thought of another
decade; another jazz era scene, dancing in the dark.”
I'm not going to ask you to forgive me.
First, I'll find out if this is what you want.
Because maybe I'm being played by the witches; maybe
they want me to fail, lose you;
my train-wreck yet irreplaceable love.

Sharp brown eyes; that first day, do you remember?
The statues winked down as you woke up.
I hurried to help you stand, you pushed me away.
“What did you do to me?
I don't feel the same..”
Pigeon blood; your lips were now stained
with lust and anger, one that would last
several nights, friend.
You wanted to kill me, get rid of
the monster inside your head; his
desires starch white, his eyes
glittering with his own damaged childhood.

Do it to me again..
This time around, I'll let you be the villain.
I'll let you be the selfish one, friend.
Throw me to the ground, your cold hands
around my neck; weak October, I deserve everything..
Give it to me hard, slam me against a wall,
demand your precious humanity back.
But you know I can't give it, you know
I can't unchain the past; where it's hiding
in the back of your tattooed imagination.

“You want immortality?
You want 1800 in your bones?”
I should have asked politely.
But instead, I just took you with me
one Charleston night; stole your body
from that old plantation house, thinking,
“He doesn't want to go to war.
I'll save him from it all..”
Now you'll never forgive me.
“You should have just left me there
on the ground; wounded, human.
The rain, fading daylight would have held me, kindly.
You should have just let me slip away,
naturally; an angel, a golden child, because now
I'm a red-eyed monster, thanks to you.”

So that's why I did it; turned to black magic, friend.
Bronze-toned lover, I want to give you back the sun.
Let me try just this once..
If it doesn't work; you can
have my head, rip out my heart, claw at my chest.
I won't resist, I deserve it; your nightshade
venom, purple, tasting of stale summer cocktails;
a weekend at the beach,
gone to waste, a storm in my paper-ship veins.

“Give me the best damn years of your life,
I'll make them brand new.”
You lift your head up when
I walk into your room with
a cup of poison in one hand, a dagger in the other.
“Should I trust you?”
Friend, your witch-hazel eyes want the truth
so I shake my head no.
It's that simple, I've got nothing left to lose.
“Do it,” you command,
for the first time, calling the shots.
Friend, I tip the glass of crushed foxgloves
to your lips and wrap a hand around
the nape of your neck,
leaning your head gently back.
God, you're stunning..
And I hope this works, that you get a second
chance to be that golden boy again.

The American dream fresh on your mind,
I hope you get everything you were denied;
a wife, a child, a mansion by the boardwalk.
Southern starlight, I know
you never wanted this deaf-toned life.
Pigeon Blood
I've been writing a lot of naughty boy-on-boy vampire poetry lately :P
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Tragic winter-eyes, there are glass tears on your lids;
depression making your Arizona lips dry, cracked.
What a waste of a pretty face, distorted magic;
whoever he is you're missing, girl, he doesn't care.
He's already lost, anyway; somewhere you can't see
through your blurry rear-view mirror.

But ironically, jasmine-mistake; you look at me
like I'm the meanest, cruelest thing you've ever
encountered under this May-berry sun.
Standing here before you, a monster am I?
Sandpaper girl, you've got it all wrong;
you've got it all backwards in your neat little Honor Roll brain.
So sophisticated, you think you know everything..
Oh how sad, how naïve; your valedictorian heart
still believes you'll have your first love after college.
I hate to break it to you, girl; it won't last
till your 21st birthday.
Stop crying your eyes out for a chap with a neon smile,
a diner-trick laugh.
He doesn't really care what direction
the bottle spins, which girl he kisses.
Maybe in the end, you'll be just another ghost-bride
in his urban legend as he drives away
with another queen.
Cadillac rejection,
midnight tears; you'll be standing on a bridge,
waiting for it to crumble beneath your feet.
Chilled to the bone, you'll wish for death
when he leaves you
out to dry like daisy laundry; wrinkled and
reeking of moth ball memories, faded prom.

This boy's promises are deadly;
snakebite poison, they make you believe..
You're smarter, though “Everyone goes blind”
you tell me when I point out his flaws.
And I guess that's true but it doesn't
quench the dry-desert anger in my chest.
Girl, yeah I'm worthless; selfish, but
maybe I know I can make you content,
smile a little more than he can.
Girl, you can save whatever's left
of my gray-toned personality
because you gave me a chance when no one else did.
On that dance-floor, glitter everywhere, magnetic
paint; you pulled me into the crowd and for once,
I wasn't invisible.
No one else mattered,
girl, as you wound your arms around my neck.
Swan-trap, you smiled at me like you truly
believed we could have fun, somehow fit in
a universe of Pop music
pounding in the background; senseless lyrics,
faded bass, broken hearts left at the door.

The club was a brand new world
but with you; I felt calm, free.
As we made our way up the fire escape afterward,
I watched as you twirled around the rooftop,
not giving a damn, even though
your giggle sounded silly,
lips tainted with rum.
And you tossed your hair back;
all Mexican chocolate waves
cascading down your spine, and
looked up at the sky.
“There are still some stars out tonight,”
you said. “Even though, it's cloudy..”

And the night was rolling all around you, girl,
like an ocean of glittering zodiac signs.
I grabbed your arm when you started getting dizzy.
I didn't let you fall, treble-clef dreamer.
I couldn't help thinking, though, “Dear God,
forgive me now because I want her all to myself;
her torn dress against my skin.
I want her breathing my name with no apologies.”

Just because I can wish on falling angels,
it doesn't mean I can sin without a care in the world.
Girl, just because you're within reach,
it doesn't mean you're in my court.
See, I'm so lost in other people's expectations,
even when nothing else matters;
even when all I want is your warm hand on my chest,
burning through the icy exterior of a snow-owl's cage.
Girl, that is where my cell-block
heart is, in the jailbird home that's always been
our tiny neighborhood.

Living next door, did you ever
look through your ivy window?
Girl, did you ever think twice
before canceling me out?
A possibility, perhaps;
slim to none, why is that,
my Morganville princess?
Dark butterfly, I'm the only one who knows
you're afraid of spiders,
who sees when one crosses your path; how
the veins in your neck
tighten and your virgin pulse picks up..
But I never told anyone
because I figured, girl,
that you were the same as me; misunderstood.
Oh can't you give me the same courtesy now?

Is it so hard to imagine me as anything but
the blond boy across the street
who throws darts at fading magnolia trees,
who hangs up Christmas lights
all year round; at his window,
a stairway of red and green,
leading down to the ground?
Can't you see we have more in common
than anyone would believe,
expect of me; a runaway phoenix and
you, a Maid Marion wannabe?
Maybe you are popular; charming,
easy to get along with, laugh
beside during classes.
And nobody will ever feel as
comfortable around me.
But who cares, wayward dandelion?
I'm sure you don't, really.
And I just want you to notice
the ghost in the corner,
bring him out of the shadows
with a daring wink.
You don't have to promise more than friendship..
Girl, just don't let it die on the bourbon lips
of lying saints, stained-glass angels.

Slowly, I'll weave through your divide.
Mercilessly, I'll kill every last insecurity
that plagues your dreams at night.
Girl, I won't apologize, I know it's harsh
but that's life, that's the thorn in my side;
ripping my rib-cage open like a treasure chest,
robbed of mermaid pearls, pirate gold.
You can have anything you want from inside
my damaged heart, this dead nerve, girl.
Silent beating; sweet contradiction,
like night music, haunting piano keys,
you're wishing out loud in your sleep.

Say yes to me just once because
like it or not, we're made of
the same beach-wood white bone.
Pale, ghostly; almost invisible but not quite..
Girl of ash, broken dreams;
I guess I can see how you would hesitate,
reluctantly crossing out my name in a yearbook
of past memories, people you thought you knew.
Once upon a time, you might have said “I do”
to that spineless coward who left, but
now I know you're not that shameless.
Give me just one chance to prove that
I'm the only one who knows
how to touch you, what you like;
from the inside out..
Fingers on your neck; a sunflower
tattoo, branded skin;
everything will fall apart when
you give in and it scares you
and me, too; but girl,
I'm not giving up the night.
No, I'm not postponing this;
my only birthday candle wish.

Turn off the lights, lie still in bed;
fingers tangle in cedar-wood strands,
and everything will shake around us;
an earthquake of disapproval as parents protest,
friends gossip, mercilessly.
But it doesn't matter, girl..
Your small, warm hands on my chest, nails through
my t-shirt, ripping threads;
my fingers pressing into your sunspots, birthmarks
around your waist, hip bones
as you slam into me; girl, a ship sinking.
"But it's alright, it's just for tonight," you say.
"Then we'll see.."

deviantID

autumn-spirit
sharon
United States
Current Residence: Texas
Favourite genre of music: rock
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:iconlaylarabia:
LaylaRabia Featured By Owner 17 hours ago
Thanks a lot for favs!!! :blowkiss:
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:iconolivia-miriam:
olivia-miriam Featured By Owner 1 day ago  Hobbyist General Artist
Thanks for the fav.!Meow :3 
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:iconnawkaman:
nawkaman Featured By Owner 1 day ago
thank you, as ever, for the faves and support! :rose:
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:iconautumn-spirit:
autumn-spirit Featured By Owner 1 day ago
no problem :)
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:iconmanulfacture:
Manulfacture Featured By Owner Apr 23, 2015  Hobbyist Digital Artist
Thank you for the fave! Thanks for the Fav 
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:iconlauraswan:
LauraSwan Featured By Owner Apr 21, 2015  Hobbyist General Artist
Hello!
Thank you very much for the fav, much appreciated!
Laura.
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:iconautumn-spirit:
autumn-spirit Featured By Owner Apr 21, 2015
you're welcome
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:iconblackbowfin:
BlackBowfin Featured By Owner Apr 19, 2015  Hobbyist Writer
Hey there, Sharon.  Thank you much for the fave.  :)
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:iconautumn-spirit:
autumn-spirit Featured By Owner Apr 19, 2015
you're welcome
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:iconoviedomedina:
oviedomedina Featured By Owner Apr 18, 2015
Thank you for the favorite!
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