a n t i s e p t i c . l o v e . s o n g s
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
♥
a r c h i v e s
previous entries
maybe in distance,
but not in heart..
bleed the colors of
the evening stars
Friday, August 9, 2013 5:25 AM
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. u r b a n s e r e n a d e .
i shoplifted the mojito moon from your
liquor store eyes because i could still relish
the taste of cancer from your angel bones.
i constantly veiled the demons inside me
behind rock ballads just to have the
dissident privilege to corrupt your
underground innocence and distort
your old-fashioned purity since
my soul was merely damned by
the cataclysm of your kiss.
baby, one touch was never good enough
and you know i'll rip out my icebox heart
just to prove the monster in
me wants more.
i don't want to close my black leather jacket eyes
and forget the music of your screams, resembling
the beautiful screeching of broken
double-neck guitar strings when
i plucked them to the tune
of gunshots last night.
your mouth tasted like the summer
i took off my shirt and dove into
the sequined river beneath the city skyline,
almost drowning, but not quite;
feeling the water’s temperature
like ice daggers on my spine,
wishing everything would end
in blood oranges and dead magnolia blossoms.
you wore cigarettes and revolvers
similar to a vampire bite piercing,
illuminating a spiral rainbow illusion
that exploded like the reflection
of a rosetta sky when
struck by snakeskin lightning.
and all around us,
the world was on fire
like indian paintbrush
but still i couldn’t relinquish
your poetic face or fighter spirit,
so you became the ever-present
muse in my serenade.