"Seasons"

I fell for a beautiful boy
with bloodstained pillows
and a smokestained cat.
He promised me rose petals
that never existed,
but I didn’t care.
When he enticed my heart away
under a star-speckled sky,
even the summer moon was smiling.

Pressed to an autumn tree
full of fumbling admissions,
his few fleeting touches
meant more than my few fleeting words.
Kisses in a darkened theater
and innocent hands in all the right places;
the memories tumbled past too fast,
and sometimes I forgot to look.

Drunken giggles
lost in a freezing wind
trailed behind our stumbling footsteps
in the middle of the night.
Icy fingers
found a place to keep warm,
and a locket’s clasp
lay forgotten in the snow.

And when the flowers took to blooming
and the sunshine sprinkled spring across the grass,
I became a fledgling bird again
and nestled myself into his hollow heart
before we leapt from the rafters
and came across flight.

"Savior"

He works the stage like a god,
Throwing back his arms
And inviting worship
On an invisible cross.
Drowning in the sticky sweet fog
Of smoke and beer and ecstatic bodies,
I give in and bow down,
Submitting my belief-weary ears
To this new religion.

So this is eternal life.

"Again"

The first time he climbs her hair
Curiosity
The second time
Enchantment
The third
Compassion
Then
Hope
Trust
Love
Lust
...
..
.

And so on and so forth

But eventually
Silk turns to hay beneath his fingers
Catching and ripping
Callused and bleeding skin
Yet upward and onward he strives
Seeking pain but unable to stop

Forced to yearn
Drawn to return
She is a witch, her beauty her spell
Her mother has clearly taught her well

Soon, he slips
(Stones mocking his fall)
Betrayed and confused
Blinded, alone
Cursed and calling her name

And hating all the while
He still only sees her smile

"Finale"

He waits for the pulse of tempo to shift
‘Til fast becomes trance and he offers a hand
Reaching for her as she reaches for him
Drifting entwined at the music’s command

She loses her grasp and knows it won’t last
As harder she clings to the soft leather coat
Willing her dream to soar or to crash
And slips in his pocket goodbye on a note

"Jaded"

She collects green Skittles
In glass jars on the kitchen shelf.
It starts with a habit,
Leaving open rainbow bags
On the counter by the sink,
As always, for him.
She barely even registers the mess of ripped packets,
Spilling emerald reminders and cluttering spotless tile,
Until her sister suggests
With gentle sympathy, always gentle,
That she tidy up.

But she can’t bear to throw them away,
To sweep them into the gaping mouth of the trashcan
Like they never existed,
Like he never existed,
So she puts them in jars, jars from his mother,
Watching grass and trees and Christmas wreaths,
Summer evening salads and apple cider bottles,
Silky spotted ties and worn polo shirts,
Pile up behind the clear barrier,
Filling the empty spaces in her life with memories of
Green… green… green…