YOU ARE READING

Poetry

Your voice is the paint I take to the sky, splattering it all over, so they can all know you're nigh.

Mascara

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by RedBirdWrites

by RedBirdWrites

(based on "Mascara" by Deftones

Their old limestone hearts

come halfway back to the halfway houses of life

whenever you plant your feet near them

and it turns me Macbeth.

You are daybreak, a pool of pretty crystals

looking back at me, a teaspoon of sugar

to ease the burns.

And it kills me.

Solstice

falls on me and I on it.

My bedroom has your noises memorized,

soft moans and the cries of violets twisting in their sockets

and it fucks me up.

You find me on Death's hill,

splayed out, bleeding as stars are bleeding

and you say you'll love me, after holding yourself

so together, light as a feather floating on a brook

and you're married to me.

That's too bad.