I stare a thousand miles at your name in grey,
Straight through the stone, down to the places you remain:
The scarlet beauty mark over my heart,
The bug whose blood smears on my walls,
The vacant pupil stain that stares in my bath,
The pinot noir spill on an old wedding gown,
The bite of the devil bleeding down my inner thigh,
The ash-covered ember of my suffocating desire.
I inhale the smoke of your final fire,
I think of you just to feel dizzy,
I light a candle for prayer, but then,
Press that lighter against my skin.
The pounding murmur in my veins,
The thick, thorned bush under your name,
Wraps itself around my saving grace,
The needles draw Red.
Always, I choose my fate – Here.
Over my silent summer
Over and over and over
For what have you left for the rest of my days?
What is God’s promise to the scar of your kiss?
What is Heaven’s peace to the warmth of a woman?
What is Enlightenment to grief?
Eternity of nothing.
I want my terrible Lillith.
And to lose her a hundred times over
Than to never look back
Again
