100 Starving Winters.

You're not welcome here,not after midnight sank into your soul and you tasted every inch of skin that hung, swaying, screaming in the breeze from the tree you insolently carved my name in...

From the bark that bleeds my heart.


You, in your hatred of poverty and how you spit upon the gifts that settle in your calloused palms....

What's good enough?


I have burnt my arms on the fire of the sun for you, as you screamed relentlessly for the moon, angry with the nights absence, as I have mentioned to you in those moments when your ears were clogged with the chanting voices that reminded you of what you desire...

You wanted the sun. You wanted the sun so how dare you miss the moon?


Here, in the memory of doorways and handwriting messed and stained with your loneliness, the loneliness that encourages you to lie, I have captured the image of peeling paint and a hundred starving winters, you turn your head and your ignorance is peeking through your eyes...

It will never be good enough until you release the sun...


The moon won't return.


My brushes are dusty and I'm so tired of making the bed you destroy at midnight, when you attempt to remove my skin and hang me from your teeth, a kiss is just that anymore...


The brushing of lips, the momentary sharing of a breath and the sweat that mingles and collides when our bodies fuse into eachother becomes lost and trapped as it dries upon the sheets...


And I laugh, I laugh at your juvenile idea of love as my wing flutter in their patience, as I wait for these storms to pass.



How sad it must be to never read beyond the words, how pathetic to lack integrity...how empty it must be to only hold onto yourself...
To only graze skin and never burn the heart....

How dare you...

Cry

For the

Moon?

Reviews

[Relic]

In a way, the moon feels like a metaphor for you and the sun a metaphor for what he wants but can't find despite it being right in front of him.

I'm tired, but I hope I was close. I liked this a lot. Keep writing Jeanmarie.