Thank you.

A girl, pale and sweet

skipping through the sunset,

cutting dead roses

to put in her hair.

“Why, child,” says her mother.

“Those are dead!”

The girls nods understandingly.

“Yes momma, you killed them.”

_________________________

200 Glowing Stars

Every night, before I sleep

I lay down

on my bed in my room

in my home, our home.

It might not be what it was

before the fire took our flame.

but we have a tapestry,

200 glowing stars (exactly),

CDs and vinyls

and signed posters,

new favorite dresses

and a surprisingly healthy orchid.

It smells like cool air and rosemary,

a little bit like horse.

we have a door and walls

and a window with a view

on the top of a hill

with ruins that won’t be rebuilt.

but we have our room

where I lay at night

covered in a blanket

of our 200 glowing stars.

_____________________

Where were you

where were you when I needed you?

where were you when my house had no walls,

when the sun refused to look me in the eyes

and tell me I was worth shining for.

when claws ripped my pride

like a wet paper bag,

scratching

gnawing

beating up on me

over and

over and

over again.

Where were you then?

I remember your face–

as if it was a bad dream–

behind the mirror watching me

your hideously gorgeous face.

go away.

I don’t need you now

to make up

what you unrestorably took.