the girl who fell in love with the mirror

bloody, tear-stained veil lines her neck.
dress made from silkened ruffles hangs from her shoulders.
strawberry curls frame her rouge-smeared cheeks
fall down to the small of her back.
eyes naked from the salt
lips pouting, pinched red.
fingernails nubby and bloody, bitten raw
painted toes, fuchsia, beautiful.
hips poking, skin tight, veins

if only you could see how pitiful you look.

creation myth

painted the roses red
at one time, they were white.
but we decided instead,
it'd be better if they were red.

hung flowers from the trees
a sight of thorny color bright.
they were barren, few leaves,
now they're pretty, powerful trees.

folded paper into mushrooms, brown
nestled in grass, shading the light.
placed them on corners all over town,
paper mushrooms made of beautiful brown.

ice beauty

I stumbled across her lifeless body, frozen.

She was angelic, her skin pure and pale.

Her lips, a very faint pink, almost purple,

Golden curls framed her face.

Her clothing was sheer. I could see her insides.

The blood that used to flow through her veins was cold, frozen, dark.

Her organs were shriveling, dissolving

And her bones, poking out all over.

The sky opened.

Bits of snow began to drift on to her frosty limbs,

Fingers and toes darkening with frostbite.

A layer of ice formed on her face,

Her eyelashes frozen shut, icicles.

Purest of beauty.

Cover her. Save her. Take her.

More than that, love her.

But I was too scared of the cold.

Gently, I kissed her pink lips

And left her sleeping in the snow.

short poem

Embalm me in your memory.
Please, adorn my casket with your tears.
No greater love.

Come into my cocoon,
I’ll let you but only once.
You’re against my better judgment.

Let me trust you,
I want to, but you never gave me the chance.
Come find me, I’ve been waiting.

icarus

When I was younger you always told me not to fly too close to the sun.
I was enticed by defiance.
I wondered what my wings were for if not for flying.
So I began to fly, but never too high.
Fly over treetops, breaking branches.
Fly over lakes, watching ripples.
Fly into the clouds, indulging in the mist.
Too high didn’t seem possible.
My wings were invincible.

When I was younger you always told me not to swim too deep.
I was overwhelmed with curiosity.
I wondered what my fins were for if not for swimming.
So I swam, but never too deep.
Swam through the seaweed, endless.
Swam between schools of fish, scaly.
Swam above the coral, beautiful.
Too deep didn’t seem possible.
My fins did not want to be controlled.

I defied your warning.
I flew too high; I swam too deep.
However, I survived.

I flew higher than I ever had before.
I felt my body burning, dissolving.
I turned into a ball of fire, an enflamed meteor.
My body stayed lit for a while,
But it did not kill me.
My wings were charred, but I could still fly.

I swam deeper than I ever had before.
I felt my fins flying through water, gliding.
Then I felt pressure, my body becoming small, compacted.
I was suctioned to the ocean floor.
I could not breathe; I started to drown.

I was becoming weak, and the water was dark.
I saw a small light, reached out to grab it.
I felt something soft but rigid.
I held tight, I knew I was dying.
It was a whale that saved me,
A whale.
His firm fin guided me to life again.

I flew too high and swam too deep,
I had to, it was my calling.
I know now that if you truly did not want me to fly or swim,
That you would have cut my wings and fins,
But that was not your choice.
Maybe someday, I’ll cut my own wings and fins,
But for now, I will fly too high and swim too deep.

survive

Forget what he said. It doesn’t matter now. And it never did.
He was speaking in tongues, only nonsensical
Language that never held meaning.
We thought it did when we younger,
Perched on your every word,
We were waiting for your hierarchy to fall.
It did, but we survived,
Alone.

I survived, without you.
The grasp you had on my neck has been lifted.
The chains you locked on my ankles have been broken.
I am yours no longer.
Now I am mine.

Pretend he was never yours, never real.
Realize that he was just a figment of what could have been,
Not what is.
Recognize that the sun can still burn you,
And water can drown you.
Don’t let him kill you,
There are better ways to die.

The lion and the Tiger

A lion will always be a lion.
If you start with a lion, you can’t end with the tiger.
A lion can never turn into a tiger.
But a tiger could easily become lion, if he wanted to.
You are either a lion or a tiger, you cannot be both.
If you look and act like a lion, you are one.
You speak in lion.
Language of a lion can be hard to translate, especially if you’re a tiger.
You have to be careful.
When dealing with a lion, understand they can’t help themselves.
Lions have no sensors.
A tiger will never fully understand a lion, and vice versa.
Sometimes tricky lions try to disguise themselves as tigers.
They paint themselves orange with stripes, trying to deceive,
But the lion, will never truly be anything but a lion.
Tigers don’t need to disguise themselves as lions, nor would they try.
They don’t need to be lions, for they are tigers.
Why can’t I forget the lion? Is it because I have yet to find a tiger?