Leafy Bones

Monday, 16 April 2012

Nicely Norman

Que the mirage of the mirage gone extinct.

Arms that cradled my mind.

Fingertips that pressed blood like book flowers,
a smiling demon
and our entwined drowning.

Cursing she coursed my brain
if hell has mercy she will be further gone;
I kept her so close,
but we let go of our childish hand-locks;
and when I must ignore the tapping at the window
I know she is not the same.

Uprooted and talent drained
muscles weak, skin slim.
Normal, normal
the paint picked out

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