June 25, 2010

Nostalgia: Beautiful Monsters.


Why do you hide your eyes, my darling,
From the boys who loved you more,
Screaming your name into their pillows at night,
Calling for you,
Tangling themselves in your white light sheets,
Feeding you berries and flowers as you hide your body in the mud and dirt and fallen leaves of oak trees.

You know that it must have been the pain of losing them to the wolves,
The thought of them running from your wordless mouth,
The one that they kissed like lilies exposed in dark water they cannot see the bottom of.
Afraid of what they will find inside,
Below the surface of the lilium nymph,
Her body made of scars from the sacrifices,
Ashes of dead lovers and poets and songs,
Swirling in her eyes.

So they ask for you to return their hearts to them,
Their eyes, lips, teeth,
Since you have so carelessly made necklaces from their bodies,
Holding their souls between your thighs.
You must have looked like a changeling to them,
Pointed ears and crooked fingers,
Honeysuckle mouth,
Orange blossoming eyes.

But the broken man still sits outside the window,
Smelling like music,
Cigarette burn voice,
And you realize you never needed the bone body jewelry,
The words they never said.
Just this man who fell from the stars,
The constellation in his wrists,
The ancient beautiful beating of his voice in your hands.

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