#calliopen

this clementine peel sunrise is bleeding orange

like juice on your chin but you

are the world and you

are everything

sinking your fingernail into a clementine peel

filling the kitchen with that orange scent until it drowns us

this quiet contentedness

this soft imagining, this right here is everything

that feeling when i glance over and you’re

just existing and that puts a smile on my face

and how? how did this happen?

how did i lose all of me to those

wings on your shoulder blades

and why don’t i care about that?

since when did you become my world, since when

did you become my everything?

i used to think your eyes were forget-me-not blue

tell yourself that you’re okay

the more you repeat it, the more the lies start to sink in

anchors in a wine-dark sea

but homer’s been dead for millennia, don’t you forget it

i’m sure there are plenty of things you’d like to forget

their touch, angel wing soft on your skin

their laugh, cherub light floating from their lips

you’ve never believed in god except at your grandmother’s house on easter and christmas

but their smile is all the proof you’ll ever need for the existence of angels

(don’t worry, i believe you)

 they say if you love something, set it free

but what if you never did anything but they flew away anyway?

does that say more about them or about you?

don’t focus on that, never focus on what’s been lost

soon enough, you’ll be more ghost than girl

because dead to them is dead enough for you

 when you lie awake at night, keep your thoughts close in this forest

it’s a full moon tonight – you never know what might be lurking

waiting, salivating for the taste of your heartbreak

you reek of tragedy, darling

the wolves can smell it

 let yourself cry, but not about this

watch every sad thing you can find until you’re drowning on dry land

dig into your chest with a garden spade and pull out your hurt and plant someone else’s there instead

trust me, it’s easier to get over the headache if the tears aren’t for you

 they’ll tell you that this was meant to be

that this was your destined course on the race to heaven or hell

that it’s okay, because this was supposed to happen

but you’ve always been more of an existentialist anyway

so ignore them

you whisper your prophet’s song

but i’ve never heard of a prophet who wasn’t either untrue or unbelieved

so why should i trust you now?

i guess this haze is enough to make anybody believe in their own divinity

even though nobody believes in their own god complex

this full moon is smiling at you, can’t you see?

that feeling in your ribs,

that’s smiling back, even if you can’t feel it

its alright; this pain is a

single driver car crash on country roads at night

this is a disappearance, more than anything else

a magic trick without the doves

a ruination, bloodstains on white lace

this is a contamination of all things holy

poison creeping in on tiptoe, whisper-hushed

to infect this saintskin

this is a surrender

this is not a victory and it never will be

wish upon as many stars as you can find in the sky, but this

will never be a victory

this isn’t martyrdom

(not enough publicity for that)

this is blood blooming on marble like roses for condolences

but flowers don’t make very good consolation prizes