I should have seen

The midnight black

Coat of some loathsome cat

As it snuck into the church

On a path which must have

led under a ladder.

I know you saw me

In my ball gown dress,

Watched me from somewhere

Behind my back;

Though you didn’t see

The red bleeding from within it

Staining the pearl colored dress I settled for

Since it’s too late now to wear white

Curse the clock

Ever ticking clock

Louder and louder

Racing toward the inevitable,

The day that it will burst

Set in stone

And curse the knives

Expertly sharpened, expensive,

Blade as thin as ice on a lake

Blade as thin as eggshells

Dashed against the ground

Though somehow we managed

To dull them

Before the warranty was up

Both hexed items sat unassumingly

Wicked obscenities harbored among gifts.

How I despise that bearer of rings

Who fumbled our bands

Unable to keep them

From leaping

Back to the earth.

It seems one of us must have shed a tear,

Of love,

Of joy,

Of shame,

Of despair,

Of regret.

What a mistake we made

Joining lips

On that saturday

As the sky poured forth

tears of its own,

For the rooster that was late to crow.

And even in the May showers,

The peonies I held

Wilted to waste.

Damned be that faceless nun

That crossed our path,

Shrouded

Hidden under her black habit

As she was no daughter of God,

Rather,

Lucifer’s Lady of Luck

The fawn-child sighs and looks into the mouth of that faucet; it seems this game of tug-of-war is due to begin, as it does every day. Knees knocking, the bruises from this compulsion meeting in a kiss, it cups its palms and looks down, each fold and wrinkle in the same place it had been the day before. It searches from above and below rushedly for specks of light peeking through, squeezing its fingers together, and folding its palms. The small bowl it has made quakes with the force it uses to keep its palms together, airtight, so no light slips through. I know this time won’t be any different, but what else is there to do but try again? It checks one last time, in case the integrity of its cupped palms had been compromised, still finding no cracks or holes, but I know they are there, they always are. It will always leave this faucet empty-handed.

Shifting my focus back to the matter at hand, it shifts, reaching out to feel the cool silver handle. As always, it weakly leads with the right hand, abandoning the left under the beastly jowls of the faucet. With an iron grip and white knuckles, it pulls the knob toward its frail body, releasing it the moment its left hand is covered in that coveted cool chill of life. Left and right make a rushed reunion in an attempt to contain their hostage. Precious nectar drips to the floor, through its fingers, running down its wrists. There is so much, and I need it all.

The dam overflows, and I know I must be quick now. Leading with its right once more, it rips it away from the left, grasping for the icy knob. I hardly have time to notice now, how my bare feet and legs are misty with the residue left by stray streams. It pushes itself back using the force of the primal desperation with which it shut off that god-given, vile, faucet. The sides of its palms clash together, and the force resounds throughout each joint. There is no movement now but for the thing’s quick shallow breaths rocking its body. I have to look down now.

In the small creature’s palms there is a tiny pool, too small to even make a mouthful, and even as it watches, the pool seeps away. Greedily, the grubby, neglected cherub brings its hands to its face to lap from the tiny palms. It isn’t enough, it never is. Where did it go? Why can’t I hold this? My life had rested in my hands and once again I let it get away.

My dam overflows, and it wails in despair, the cries bouncing about the endless black void, the overwhelming amount of nothing. There is only this faucet and I, and this grey body soon will rot away. It drops to its ruined knees and heaves, coughing and shaking on the dark wet surface on which the wretched babe now lay crumpled. All it can do is turn its infantile face so its cheek lays against the cool blackness. Its tongue flicks from its mouth, ashamed, but the serpent has no nobility to uphold, its only quest is to quench the thirst.

It will spend this day licking the floors clean, and when it passes out from exhaustion the day will be ended. Tomorrow it will wake up and try yet again. Tomorrow it will wake up and fail yet again. Still this child will not change; I suppose I’ll never think of that.

I should have seen

The midnight black

Coat of some loathsome cat

As it snuck into the church

On a path which must have

led under a ladder.

I know you saw me

In my ball gown dress,

Watched me from somewhere

Behind my back;

Though you didn’t see

The red bleeding from within it

Staining the pearl colored dress I settled for

Since it’s too late now to wear white

Curse the clock

Ever ticking clock

Louder and louder

Racing toward the inevitable,

The day that it will burst

Set in stone

And curse the knives

Expertly sharpened, expensive,

Blade as thin as ice on a lake

Blade as thin as eggshells

Dashed against the ground

Though somehow we managed

To dull them

Before the warranty was up

Both hexed items sat unassumingly

Wicked obscenities harbored among gifts.

How I despise that bearer of rings

Who fumbled our bands

Unable to keep them

From leaping

Back to the earth.

It seems one of us must have shed a tear,

Of love,

Of joy,

Of shame,

Of despair,

Of regret.

What a mistake we made

Joining lips

On that saturday

As the sky poured forth

tears of its own,

For the rooster that was late to crow.

And even in the May showers,

The peonies I held

Wilted to waste.

Damned be that faceless nun

That crossed our path,

Shrouded

Hidden under her black habit

As she was no daughter of God,

Rather,

Lucifer’s Lady of Luck

There isn’t any Sun

But it is warm

Warm, like organs are

Wet in my torso

Or boiling in my skull

These four crimson walls are hot

They can only be mine

For they’ve been here as long as I’ve thought of them

And this place heaves shakily with me

I’ve cast the curse of breath

Which was not born

And which will not die

The universe looms outside

Unable to touch this place

I look out into nothing

Nothing looks back at me

I breathe

Nothing breathes back

Nothing is bigger than I

Nothing seeps my vision away

I stand anyway

I look anyway

Some light must exist outside of nothing

As I can see pale dirt below my bare feet,

With little probing, I find soil,

The place where warmth and wetness kiss to birth life

But there is no heat here

There is no water

And there is no need

This room is earth and clay

No life to be held in this purgatorial womb

And so I am all that exists

Until I close my eyes

And convince myself otherwise

I wish you could love me like I love you

I wish you weren’t the ever-burning star

At the center of my universe

A reminder of an impending doom

That one day, your fire will consume me

And yet

You are my only source of light

Keeping me warm

Your rays look upon me

Never in adoration

But never in disdain

An ever-present glazed indifference

Why is it that my love letters never reach you?

They must go up in flames in your overwhelming heat

I can’t kiss you

You’re so far away

And you’re so big

And I’m so small

My dreams of you at night

Don’t make you rise any quicker

I wonder if my words reach you

I wonder if they can slip through those pearly gates

To meet you in the Heavens

I look up at you

Hoping you aren’t looking down on me

I thought I could quench the Sun

I thought if I loved you enough

Maybe your fires wouldn’t have burned me up too

So when I see the smoke rolling off my skin

I don’t try to kiss the burns away this time

I let you consume me

Because all I want

Is to be with you