I never did endure the winter well;
I was born a summer girl meant for California
to do what I want whenever I please,
and I go through a metamorphosis now and then
as I continue my apprenticeship in the art of living
and struggle with theories on loving; I sent out
a message in a space probe to whomever will listen,
hoping to rediscover my autumn, but they do not
sell love for the realistic romantic around here.
or send a turtle dove my way
see where reflections are made
and where they sometimes call today
they are not very
nature-related, but you
can read them right here.
I'm quite enchanted by dark eyes
with twinkles like diamonds, from the rough
maybe we'll fall in love after this
while butterflies across the ceiling dance,
their wings painted like coloured crystal
you'll probably leave a stain on my heart
but you're a drug like no one's ever known
with eyes that crystallize in the moonlight
and a laugh that bounces like a rubber ball
oh, and you've got an ego without conceit
if only you would sharpen yourself a bit
you could be a brilliant diamond knife
and I bet you could cut through my dying hope
you're such a wonderful swordsman and all
but your mirror image is bound to fool me
when you look at me with those mirror eyes
I need mocha-lungs to swim in those deep
pools of coffee while floating on a silk smile
and I'll dry off while lounging on cupid's rug
I'll look to you silently with a plea in my eyes
for the defeat of tension because sometimes
it's hard for me to take in your venom love
it feels funny and green within my blood
because I'm a scarlet-blooded crimson girl
but I felt like the walking dead before you
or Ophelia drowned among the water lilies
I suppose there's a bit of irony in it all
when love seems to lead to carrion flesh
and a bit of an inferiority complex on my part
it's hard because you're such a distant star
and wrecked hope fills me because I know
I'll never reach you through the mud puddle
it's too cold in space for crimson anyway
must be where the fire and the snow beauty
meet to cause the death of a heart and the
warmth created makes burning water lilies
even as I am snow sky pining away for you
a melody like never heard before flying away
leaves me addicted to the sound of your voice
and like a pathogen you tear me up inside
I haven't got the hand-eye coordination to stop
you and find something worth braiding for, besides
this is a poem with no meaning and the odds are
ten to one that it won't have one anytime soon
so let's keep up the farce and pretend it does...
do it because you love me, and it won't be a
lost cause, I promise you, and you know
you deserve a medal for what you do to me
as we live our lives in a bohemian lie of love;
every now and then I find myself stricken by
you, as if I've tripped on banana peels that you
set out with the foolish intentions of catching me,
and I find that your kisses can be like cremation,
sweet, rather than a suffocating burial, and I know
you'll never be a defective anchor, letting me sail off
whenever I please, so far that you become a memory;
there are times when I want you to unlock my heart,
but even as I wish, I know I'd come right back to you
you even overshadow her sometimes, and I think
that if I was a fairy tale, you would be my prince or
you might be my stolen innocence, in any case
you're in charge of the treasury of my little heart
and you're responsible for the desertification of me,
but this is an imperfect romance, and I fear that we
may have lost love's advantage when we began this
journey with your pet name paper doll, and I just can't
take the pressure of loving you any longer, my dear.
unfortunately, I suffer from an addict's predicament
and I know I'm completely hooked on you, because
you were there while my heart was defrosting, and,
love, your satire of morality made me feel just
a little less like lithium than I did without you
when I leave this cardboard box
think of me every once in awhile
maybe when you're falling from
the fatal secrets that have just
sent you an invitation into the
volcano with the kiss in your
pocket that I offered to you
without a word of hesitation
while the rose upon my dresser
wilted with the bush down the hill
as the rain fell upon our faces so
that I, the perfectionist, felt the
heartbreak that comes with the
journey into the sunset wearing
worn denim when all I want
is to be nursing a memory back
into the present by the tree where
the monsters in a dark closet
can't keep us from snuggling
and the dark side of the moon
lets us be friends forever, just like
the rain (patter) and the roof
you're the (second) perfectionist,
you know, with your gray eyes,
just like the boy in the dungeon,
soft like a day in the rain, or
a song in israel among the olives
maybe I could fly if only a bit
of silence could bring wings
or with a sigh I could take flight
but someday, really, I will fly
just like a super hero on the
TV, box of creations of the mind
and we'll be (true) friends forever
but sugar, leaving you is like suicide
or Cinderella's lost slipper not found
and who said we'd be one happy family
can't be, if all we truly know now
is depression just as the sky goes
crimson with the blood dawn that
somehow freezes with terror at the
sight of Miss Perfect coming down
the street so that the sky looks so fake
to the voices running to aid the
screaming soul that cries out like
a beautiful banshee from bloodstained
snow and darling, it's quite fine
if you'd rather not be my white knight
I'm leaving anyway with my scars
in one bag along with the vase
that once held my dying rose
just stand with me and be my friend
though the outsider sees I want more
but it's september 11th now and I'm
headed for New York like a broken girl
know that you have my forgiveness
for the brain discrimination and not
liking the way I kissed you yesterday
because I built a ladder up to the crater
as we were standing under the tree, you
not thinking about my loving misery
or what may be my shy inspiration
but autumn and winter are gold and
white like the pawns that move first
when we play chess, feet sinking in
the sand to prevent scuff marks on the
tile floor while my blue eyes meet yours
and a feline crosses the room, so ordinary
unlike your peach flesh that shines
as the light falls upon it, so extraordinary
silly of me, but I was afraid of you, a fairy
making your face glow like candlelight
wanted to stay forever; had a change of heart
when forever ended under the cherry tree
and you, sugar, snapped my heart like bubble
wrap, you'd do it every day if you could
but no one ever said unrequited love was
easy or that an empty poem didn't have a
message or that a best friend couldn't be one's
true love, there's a fact to trip on; I did
while you were acting like an idiot with
your favorite comedy routine and we danced
in the glass encasement down in the basement
pictures of sugarplums, or just you, sugar, in
my poor unloved head; never thought the clouds
could be drained of such beautiful rain,
never thought you'd be immature about the hug
we shared or that hopeless illusions could
someday lead to brand new colors to paint with
other obligations got in the way of that, it seems
but I'm the gypsy maiden that always sings; but
you're holding my black rose now, the one that
died yesterday, because summer has passed
and my flower-crowned concert is over, it seems
flames melt the snow, you know, and I stand
on this lonely beach that is somehow covered in
snow, missing the sandbox by the cherry tree
where I became your personal masochist
and my nerves sparked with rebirth at the kiss
that will become your saving grace, believe it
or not, love, and it's finally time for me to fly
so you can love me, break me, but I'm headed
for the big city and I've got a deadline to meet
so close the door to the cardboard dollhouse
because we can't let any strangers in to our
happy home; they make it all sugar-sour, but
you like it sour, never changes, does it, sugar
because you wear black-lens glasses and your
world is dark, never one for cowardice, or so
you said, while you wore the sapphire, never the
brave ruby, along with autumn's cloak on your
shoulders; I wish it wasn't the end of the game
so that we (and she laughed) could be in love
for a bit even though your heart's forbidden
to me like devil's fruit and my impatient heart
has to leave to get some rest for mercury
and wishes lurking shall never be granted
and maybe you'll cleanse the ground by the
cherry tree of the snow that remains of you
and me, the fire and ice of a love that, as I
know, never was.