I've traveled nine thousand miles
to rid my hands of your smell and
to find the solitude of an autumn breeze,
anywhere around the globe, but here.

I'd fly to Pluto and back,
swinging past Jupiter's moons
and dancing with the Rings of Saturn
while the stars kiss away your scars.

Sitting in the shawdows of sunbeams
is where I will hide when you remove
the blindfold; all I've left behind is
a faint reminder of what it was like to smile.

I'm sure you've forgotten, by now anyway,
what it's like to feel your blood swirl
like snowflakes inside you,
feeling vibrant, warm, alive.

But you're used to waterfalls,
the sharp fall into slicing waters-
the blood splattering along the
bathroom tile and down the drain--

The tile was too white for my tastes,
the water too clear and the razor too sharp
the bathroom was baptized for this moment
and it was time for our blood to drown.

Mars flew past us in the sky leaving
a whirlwind of sparkling tails,
an irridescent following that lead
to my imperfections.

I kissed your cheek and gazed into your
cruel blue eyes; my heart was crying blood
but I hid it, so well you couldn't hear
and I turned off the light and left.

I kept the blade as a souviner of you.
One day, I imagine, you will return
with the setting sun and ask for what
is rightfully yours, your eyes glaring-

I will remove the shiny piece from my pocket
and cut along my ribs and remove my heart,
you can take the blade, too, if you want,
but it's my heart that's yours, forever.

02/24/2004

Posted on 02/25/2004
Copyright © 2026 Lauren Pearl