Moth Scars

The brutality of your sullen ways makes me want to surrender to the thunderous crash of your seamless waves. Moonlight brushstrokes. I seen myself, hanging there, by the apple tree, thinking about flowers and watermelon and stars in the night sky. Memories forged onto the pink of my sunset prick me like little whispers, little thimbles on my thumb when I was learning how to sew and studied hard in art class. Now I drink to numb the pain. I listen to music and envy how free you are, how beautiful you are when the sunlight dances on your skin, when those beams get into every nook. I need you like a drug pulsating through my veins, my special obsession. When I think about you, with my fingers between my legs, I come to a shudder. How alive I am in my imagination, but how I can't escape the mind I've created. I hear a piano getting closer. I look for the echoing sound but I see nothing, just bleakness in ghostly faces in pictures. Another drink, I think. I will kill this addiction, nullify the effect. Pretty ribbons of death. Tonight I am drunk and sleepless. Fervent in my desire to grow like the vines in my dreams of a fantasy land. This mundane routine, from the train to the street, is like a waterpillar boring through cloudy wool, cloudy wood chips that flake and tremble in the attic. Baby footsteps. Days pass and the scent you left behind curls in my nostrils like ripe fruit. I look around this cold room and I taste you lingering on my fingertips. The best man I've ever known is a fading spot I recall fondly. Driving to the mountain. He took me higher than I've ever been before, to an enigmatic climax that felt like sin. Perfume of our love. I never could have known we would be so nuclear, so honest and gooey. We are like pastel colours and glittering mirror balls just waiting to be squashed by a big foot. Every stain reminds me of your presence, so I take my time to wash them away. I light the room with candles and I haven't showered in two days but that's okay, you never judged me. You loved me with all my scars, placed your lips on mine. Haunt me with your winning charm. Suicide lovers. The river I'm wading through is up to my knees by now, but I'm dying to drink the sweat from your flesh. I want to make a mess and never forget. I saw a man dying. I saw a crow burning crimson in the lavender sunlight. Seeping molasses, gold hearts, fatal car crashes. Broken bones pick snails and take them to sheltered grass. Crows repent in the castle I was raised in. There were flames, but I never seen them. Gloating. Gloating. Soaking in the hotel blues, looking out at the neon city lights. Grey skies speaking in prisms. I'm still the same old boy from this small town, silently growing in a forgotten rose garden.