The wild use of imagery to speak

Because if I really spoke my mind

When her hair fell low and smooth

Flaxen, golden

Mine dark and short

Blunt, bangs knocking their knees like mine bare at lunchtime, chilly in the fall air with no tights to scathe my skin into feigning warmth

My eyes were dark, hers were blue

She turned and smiled, short skirt twisting into a bright array of color

Her energy exploding, mine sinking away

The power of the moon, her scepter

The fear of time, my scythe. Always reborn, never forgiven.

Dirty Witches

Make Perfume

A closet I didn’t know I was in

This is magic, I would say.

Unreal.

This is like a dream, I would say.

But deep inside, I knew

It was sheerly truth.

This truth was deeper than I ever realized.

My hands grew warm and my breath moistened.

I blushed.

Here, she stands beside me. Holding my hand, looking deep into my eyes.

I have to tell myself that it’s okay.

I can trust.

I can look back at her, and know that I’m not trying. I’m not giving more than I actually have.

I’m overflowing. I see her eyes soften and her hand close in tighter over mine. She rubs my fingers.

I thought I had changed.

Looking at a new life with a new future and a new self and oh my gods how could I be so lucky? How many stars do I have to thank? How many constellations can I trace like the freckles and moles along your soft, sweet body? How many times can I utter the words

I love you

Until it takes my breath away. Until I see your gaze soften. Until I hear those same words, dripping down your chin, making me blush beyond my cheeks. My body warms.

I thought I had changed.

I have.

I’ve become more true to myself. Nothing has changed, save for the love I have for you, has room in it, for me too.

I thought I had changed.