Give me my month
of lavender and sage
so I can burn
your name off my lips.
melting into a black mirage
Douse me in riptides
to banish the ache
the wetness now is wrongly wild
Sing a raven's cry from the other side,
let the veil hide my wanting and greed,
cloaking it in dreamless sleep
The books and bards, the potions and liquors
are chipping in their charms.
As lucid daylight burns my eyes
the rusty stretch of another day
without your skin
pulls me near
bares its teeth
dragging me into its jaws again.
YOU ARE READING
Lives Collide
PoetryDo I contradict myself? Very well then I contradict myself, (I am large, I contain multitudes). - 'Song of Myself,' Walt Whitman It's hard to know sometimes who you're meant to be. And that's kind of okay. One day I feel like a witch, another like...
