JUNIE.

(i)

and so she sits, the table crooked and fruit is all over while her cigar is way faded and she's mistaken the streetlights as stars. is it black magic? how can she so pretty yet so naive in the fact that she can make every single soul bow down to her feet, yet she sobs when she sees her own reflection. envious, she is filled with jealousy and eager drops of wanting to be in a different body, a different era. she gives away her grapes and sons of young souls in return for prayers so she can come face to face with the creature who cursed her with creating paintings without the paint.

(ii)

the summer taste sweeter when her stainless blood goes back to leaping over the fluff of clouds and she looks down at the ones she loved the most. she is the fruit that burns the inside of your cheek. tingle, feel ardour on your bubbling skin. passionate, but never the passion fruit.

(iii)

lazy eyes filled with supernova colors and he thinks he's in love with her now, but she's in love with the mindset of loving until she can't remember her own existence. she spins pluto on her fingertip until she is dizzy from watching it collapse in front of her. she wants to cover herself with honey, yet there is black pepper on her wrists. junie takes in everything at once without knowing how she got here.