I have eaten through all our
Memories, a wicked moth
Shadowed by alley-dwelling
Sunflowers. I may not know
To whom you prey but I know
That I am no longer within
Your hypermetropic range
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On my breath the guilty scent
Of rosemary betrays my espial
Lens, you are a raven, bound
To the witching hour by appetites
That seem to me more deprived than
Depraved. In the closet the dresses
I no longer wear are my scarlet
Letter shame. I gave up much too
Soon on beautiful things, on
Dreams with heliotrope wings
And kisses like impatient skies
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Whenever you leave you
Unscrew all the light bulbs
And place them in your eyes,
Artificial stars for pink neon fireflies
I cry over nocturnes and chamomile
Tea pulling your black, blond, and
Red hairs out of discarded clothing
Bitter as the juice of a grape fruit
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(This is fictional)
mindlovemisery 