if an angel were with skin, this is the skin she’d be in
and it gladdens my heart that he was there
with his red plaid falling in love with you
when you were tired of running
you thought we’d be abandoned
but, look at us dear, we’re still standing
I admire your spirit, your laughter
your view on this entire situation gone mad
the way you send prayers to stop me feeling sad
so sad, which confirms my thinking
that if an angel were with skin
it’s your skin she’d be in
this must be what the seas of Greece look like,
so blue it looks white
the water so deceiving
this must be what normal feels like,
so chill it’s like sleep
the peace I hear it leaving
this must be what perfection tastes like,
so fake it seems real
the day it leaves me grieving
after it tempted me with its stalky teasers
showing me its many scarlet hats
I saw her camouflaged behind the leaves
dull brown hiding her ruddy brown
with her head looking down
I heard her call out a song to distract me
then watched her fly away
broke my heart she didn’t want to stay
I felt the friction like a cat’s tongue
hesitating to taste what’s on my finger
cooed sweet baby words in its ear
to get him to linger
drove under the dopey gray clouds
so tired from the day
and told big happy lies to myself
begging the sunshine to stay
her skirt blowing in the wind,
next to the cliff, next to the ocean
her gnarled foot making the rocks,
the sand trickle down
flashbacks of her ballet time
her foot against the edge
the crows flew sideways that day
she looking out with eyes closed
wondering if tomorrow she’d be so brave
flashbacks of her walking away
the demon he carried was larger than him
he was unaware but I saw it
and I was just a little girl
this man who smelled of cigars and aging skin
barely spoke, but he had all the baby dolls lined up
and I’m sure he touched them all
including me, innocent and small
this man who crept in with the shadows
when he thought I was asleep, didn’t have a clue
I could turn into a statue and not make a peep
this man was naught, this man who was a creep.
let my eyes stay here and play awhile
before you go away. let me marvel at how
your light shifts shape, your amber haze so
addicting. let my eyes stay here and
play awhile, before you fly right out the
door. leaving your golden smile, your aura,
your everything – helpless on the floor
had a dream that I was playing the violin last night.
their scrolls were bobbing in the ice, the vapor was
freezing on the strings.
made me want to reach for my rosin,
but instead I felt your hand pulling me
out of my dream.
hear the static voices screaming, SHEILA!
cry out as the spirits jump on top of me,
causing me to fly much like her blossoms
that blew in our yard last night.
the flowers looked like paper mâché hearts,
the white and pink on them torn.
much like my far-gone heart, beaten and worn.
watched the wind make them scatter and I’m
wondering how I let myself even
care that they mattered.
slight man with a red beard and mane
“the waves aren’t even that big at all, let’s go!”
she, the color of dark espresso
stood playfully at the shore
her hands gleaming and airy
she let the water splash at her knees
he walked out of the water
it’s hard to accept my fate when i’m running from it.
tripping over my feet while getting slapped in the face by
the palms trying to hold me back. forcing me to stop,
to pluck the thorns from my eye, ignoring the thoughts that
i’m not ready to die. so i think back to before
and it’s easy to remember that i held you first. but
you can’t remember i was the one that loved you first.
it’s hard to accept the passing of time, counting all those
desperate moments that i call you mine. watching you run out
the doors, tossing rocks at the cars, throwing the chairs to
the floor. watching you grow faint from screaming all those gory
words. and now i grow faint as i watch the roads
turn to grass – lose my hearing, feel my voice not make
a sound. but it’s easy to remember i felt you first.
easy to remember i was the one that loved you first.