antiseptic love songs

poem collaborations by Poetic Star [sharon] and Aya Scribbles [tiara]
baby, your arsenic lips still taste
like winter never ended and
you know I'd kill myself
for more
♥

previous entries

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touching my lips with sweet vindication

On the night of my eighteenth birthday, we fell asleep on freezing

cobblestone under a hanging of Savannah moss with the taste of rain

on our tongues, but while I was dreaming of dancing the Viennese waltz

with you in the rustic untamed woods, Darling, you were already planning

to disappear and I couldn't catch your suicide love note because it

was torn up by the acorn-stapled west wind.

But I swore I would honor your memory by making

the guilty ones pay for pushing you off that cliff, boy.

That’s just how I do things. Vindication for me is therapeutic.

The dead sunset left blood stains splattered

all over the horizon, resembling scratch marks

of November’s epitaph upon dawn’s headstone.

They, your parents and closest alliances were digging their claws

into your mind, using it against you because everyone

knows that that is the greatest weapon in the world.

I was there when you got so tense, that you yanked at your silky nut

brown strands and drank a deadly cocktail of poison oak and holly red berries.

Why you didn't talk to me; I realize I wasn't strong enough.

But now this is me, making it up to you, dear.

I’ll tap my fingers against my attic window and send hail

to kill your family’s ranch; make them see that you never

wanted to be in that business and the pressure

is what strangled all your hopes and dreams.

Darling, I won’t let your so-called friends get away either.

The clouds my cool breath makes as I step outside become

blizzards of frosted prisons that cover the entire city.

Do you think I’m cruel, wherever you are now?

Well, call it human nature. You used to say I was

beautiful and graceful, while tucking copper leaves

in my braided hair and kissing the cinnamon freckle

just below my ear. I used to believe I deserved happiness.

But apparently I wasn't pretty enough for you

to stick around and share with me that gift.

So every time I do something despicable, your chiseled

face flashes across the deep sea thoughts and it’s too late

to summon back the dead with a lighthouse torch now, love.

I can’t stop..

The russet apple sun sinks its teeth into my neck,

devouring what’s left of the garbage stars

upon my skin and then spitting them in the gutter.

Dewdrops trace a path on my cheek, glistening like

rare diamonds that reflect my melancholia.

Darling, I wish I could turn back time,

before all the sand in the hourglass had run out

so we could catch all the snowflakes

that used to gather dust inside our souls,

bringing your shadow back to life after

being buried alive in yesterday’s casket.

And Darling, I buried the locket of our reckless romance

in the snow where it will never resurface because

everything winter touches dies in a glass casket so this

last autumn song addressed to you is my redemption.

Darling, you were the only pure thing I ever held in my hands.