The strand of shadow in your eyes - to feel the history of your flesh beneath my skin - all of your pale colors stealing my breath - if i could attach our blood vessels right now i would - to open up your body and slip into your skin so i could see outside your eyes and know where to begin - I want you in the middle of the dead end street screaming to the high heavens in waves - The angels cannot help now as my body which is full of flowers breaking like glass is breaking and it breaks again like midnight when the time always passes like stone yet breaks again like the stone into waves - your voice fuels the beauty inside like terror and I shiver as I float silently just like the stars connected and standing alone-- I am the daughter of smoke, star and bone. I am the cream on the tip of a fox's tongue that glides backwards making the throat soft, the lips red and the thighs pale and all the better because of you -- Hope is not dead, it is alive with monstrous twilight flowers and a hoarse, gentle voice -- This thing called hope and its evils that slay me with its shadowed double edge- This hope and its burning fire which kisses the words that I cannot utter and its promises that leave more than scars, more than bright shaking leaves --And when I thought of what had passed time doesn't heal and walls have not hidden things --at least from me because when things get that deep inside of you there isn't anyone that can change them. No- Not even you and your cream blue dawn, calendars and five thousand miles of mountains...not even your teeth that will surely sink into my fleshy parts but oh how I crave your beautiful melodies telling me and telling me again terrible things like we should never part.
Words©Wendy Rose Watson
